


Over My Dead Body

by AngelQueen87



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Freeform, Gen, POV Multiple, Post season 3a, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7150490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen87/pseuds/AngelQueen87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have come to Beacon Hills, singling out Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Lydia. Death has a plan but will they be able to figure it out before it's too late while still finding love? </p>
<p>Crossposted on Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Week One - Conquest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf. I'm just playing with the characters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest. - Revelation 6:1-2

Stiles woke to the sound of the front door of his house slamming shut. One glance at the glowing alarm clock on his nightstand and he was quickly scrambling to get out of bed, getting tangled up in the sheets in the process. The display read two-thirty a.m.

Once he was untangled, Stiles leaped across his bedroom and looked out the window facing the street. Outside, Sheriff Stilinski was hastily making his way across the lawn before getting into his cruiser and backing out of the driveway. Barely ten seconds after his father had driven off into the night, Stiles had already gotten dressed in his customary plaid shirt with jeans and was halfway down the stairs tugging on his shoes, phone glued to his ear.

“Hello?” a voice groggily rasped into the phone from the other end.

“Hey, Scott, it’s me. I’m gonna be outside your house in, like, five minutes, so get ready,” Stiles quickly mumbled into his phone before hanging up and getting into his jeep and speeding off into the night.

Four minutes later Stiles pulled up in front of Scott’s dark house. He looked out the passenger side window with wild eyes for signs of his best friend, his thumbs tap, tap, tapping uncontrollably to an agitated beat in his head as he waited. After thirty agonizing seconds he was ready to jump out of his jeep and barge into the McCall house and drag his wolfy best friend out by the scruff of his neck. Just as he was about to take off his seatbelt and storm into the house, the front door opened and a sloppily dressed Scott stumbled out and slowly made his way down the sidewalk until he was sitting next to Stiles.

Once Scott clicked his seatbelt in place Stiles put his Jeep in gear and took off down the street at breakneck speed.

“Stiles, where are we going? What’s going on?” Scott asked, stifling a yawn and rolling his shoulders and neck to get the kinks out of them. There hadn’t been any supernatural disturbances in Beacon Hills for awhile and he was just getting used to being able to sleep through the entire night again. It looked like this was the end of sleeping a solid eight hours again.

“Well, my dad basically ran out of the house like his ass was on fire in the middle of the night for the second time this week so I think it’s safe to say that some freaky crap is going on again.”

Scott groaned under his breath and slumped down in his seat at his words. That was the very last thing that he wanted to hear right now. “Are you sure?” he asked. Scott already knew the answer but he just didn't want to believe it. 

Stiles shot him a look before pulling over onto the shoulder of the road. Not too far away from where they were parked the flashing of red and blue lights of squad cars lit up the night and the two teens watched as a young woman was strapped to a gurney and loaded into the waiting ambulance. They shared a look before getting out of the jeep and stealthily making their way closer. 

Once they were close enough, Scott and Stiles crouched down low behind the green foliage on the side of the road. They watched as Stiles' father took a statement from a young man who had a thick white bandage that was stained red with blood on his head. 

“What's he saying?”

Scott leaned forward and opened up his keen senses to listen in. “The guy's girlfriend went crazy on him while they were driving down the road and she grabbed the wheel before crashing the car into a tree.” Stiles made to speak but he held up his hand. “Wait. Your dad just asked him if he had noticed the black veins on her body before that.”

Stiles' brow furrowed at that. “Black veins?”

“Yeah, apparently his girlfriend's sick with something from what the paramedics told your dad.”

Sheriff Stilinski looked in their direction just then and the two boys dove behind the trees and out of sight. 

After some time Stiles got bored of watching his father and his deputies walk back and forth around the wrecked car. “Come on, let's get out of here. I want to go to the hospital and check out that woman, see what she's got.” Scott nodded in agreement, stifling another yawn in the process. 

Just as Stiles was about to crank the engine over on his jeep he spied a white Corvette parked a little ways in front of them with a clear view of the wreckage. The windows were heavily tinted and he couldn't tell if there was someone sitting in it but something told him that there was. 

His heart beat just a little faster and he felt a cold sweat start to build up at the back of his neck. 

_Fear._

It was a familiar feeling. 

But he didn't know why he was feeling it this time. It was probably just a random person who had stopped to take a look at the accident. Maybe to try to help. 

The familiar lump in his throat and the urge to throw up told him otherwise. 

“Stiles? Stiles!”

Stiles blinked and looked at Scott in surprise. 

“You okay?”

He paused to evaluate how he felt and after a minute Stiles nodded. He was okay. 

Stiles started his jeep and then made his way to the hospital, hyper aware of the way Scott kept shooting him furtive glances. He was sure his friend was wondering about what had spooked him. But that was the thing; Stiles barely knew what it was that had scared him himself. 

A few minutes later they arrived at the county hospital and the two teens made their way in. 

“Hey, Mom,” Scott greeted through another yawn. 

Melissa McCall looked up from the chart in her hand, surprised. Everything had been quiet on the supernatural front as far as she knew so it was a shock to find the two of them here at such a late hour. 

“What's up, boys?” she asked, flipping closed the chart and making her way down the hall to room 210 with the boys close on her heels. 

Stiles nervously ran a hand through his hair. He hated to ask, but... “Was their a woman brought in a little while ago? With black veins?”

Scott's mom gave them a funny look as they stopped outside the room. “How did you know?” she asked, pushing open the door.  

The two teens peered into the room over her head. Lying prone and lifeless on the hospital bed was the woman they had seen get taken away by the ambulance. If it wasn't for the sound of the steady beeping from the monitor they would have thought she was dead. Just as his father had said, the woman's veins were black. They stood out with sharp relief against her sallow skin in crisscrossing patterns on her arms and crept up the column of her throat. It reminded him of the way wild vines grew and grew until completely taking over. 

If he wasn't mistaken, it looked as if...

“She's dying,” Scott whispered, finishing his unspoken thought. 

His mother nodded solemnly. “She's not the first either. Three other cases came in over the past few days. Within hours of being admitted they all died.”

“What did they have?” Stiles asked, looking the woman over again. He had never heard of any sickness or disease like this before. 

She shrugged helplessly. “That's the thing, nobody knows.”

“Is it contagious, Mom?” Scott asked, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. He was going to kill Stiles if he got whatever that woman had. Especially if it had some sort of supernatural origins.

“No.” Melissa shook her head. “It seems that random people are getting sick since none of the others had any connections with each other before getting sick. As far as I know there is no patient zero.”

Scott and Stiles stood in the doorway, both unsure of whom or what was causing this sickness, this disease. There were no indicators as to what was going on. Maybe it was just a coincidence that all those people died with the same illness, that they had contracted some disease and it killed them. Or maybe the currents being put out by the Nemeton had drawn some dark entity to the town and was killing people in its own way. They were basically grasping at straws. It could be either one of those theories. 

But Stiles couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the driver of the white Corvette had something to do with this sudden plague. 

After saying goodbye to Scott's mother the two friends made their way out of the hospital. They were discussing what the woman could have possibly gotten and from what or who had given it to her. But just before they got to the parking lot, Stiles quickly grabbed Scott by the back of his shirt and dragged him until they were crouching down behind one of the ambulances.

“Stiles! What the hell, man!”

Stiles ignored him and clamped a hand down over his friend's mouth. Cautiously, he peered around the ambulance at the car parked next to his jeep. It was probably just a coincidence but in Beacon Hills there was no such thing. But parked next to the pale blue, piece of crap Jeep of his was the white Corvette. 

There was no way that the person who was driving that muscle car could have possibly known where they were going. Stiles had kept checking his mirror the entire drive for the damn thing and had never seen it. And he knew for a fact that there was only that one road from the wreckage that led to the hospital. So that person couldn't have followed them either. 

There was no way, absolutely no way, that the driver could have possibly known unless he heard Stiles talking to Scott from where they stood hidden in the trees. 

Eventually a man of average height and weight appeared from the other side of the parking lot. He looked to be around middle age with a shock of white hair on his head that made him seem even paler and older than he was. The man looked like any other man but there was just something about him that made a chill run down Stiles' spine. His gut clenched painfully and told him that he was something inhuman. 

Something dangerous that needed to be gotten rid of. _ASAP._  

“Stiles, what's wrong with you?” Scott hissed, ripping his friend's hand away from his mouth. He eyed him with a bewildered expression. 

Stiles shot him a look that made it clear that he thought Scott was being dumb. “What's wrong is that the creepy guy over there followed us to the hospital and I think he has something to do with those people getting sick!”

Scott eyed him warily and peered around the ambulance. He frowned and looked around the parking lot with sharp eyes, confused and exasperated. “Stiles, there's no one there.”

“What!” He scrambled to his feet and ran around the ambulance until he stood in the middle of the lot with Scott a few feet behind him. Stiles pivoted on the spot, looking for the man and the white Corvette, but both were gone now as if they were never there in the first place. “But I swear I saw him!”

He felt the beginning of a headache coming on as he scrambled to come up with an explanation. It just didn't make any sense.  Stiles slapped a hand over his eye just as it started to twitch. He wasn't crazy. He saw that guy whether Scott had seen him or not. 

Scott clamped a reassuring hand down on his best friend's shoulder. “If you're sure, man, I'll believe you.” He didn't know what he truly believed but if Stiles was certain that he saw something then he was going to trust him. After all that they had been through together it was best not to rule out everything now, no matter how crazy the thought might be. 

“I'm sure, Scott.”

He nodded and that was that. 

The two boys climbed into Stiles' jeep and after Stiles dropped Scott off at his house he drove home and immediately went back to bed, not even bothering to change his clothes. He just wanted to forget and escape into a dreamless sleep, to pretend that he didn't just have a delusion in the middle of the hospital parking lot for just a few hours. 

* * *

Over the course of the next few days Stiles did extensive research about the sickness that was spreading across town. Six new cases had come in and each one died within hours of getting sick. It seemed as if it was beginning to spread rapidly now but there was still no discernible pattern between them. 

Stiles was lucky enough to get to the hospital just before one of them slipped away and was claimed by Death the day before. He had questioned a young man who couldn't have been any more than a few years older than him. What he had learned from the twenty year old had chilled him down to the bone. 

Days before the man had become sick he had noticed that a mysterious white car had been following him around town. At first he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him but then he started seeing a man dressed in white with hair just as light. He appeared everywhere he had gone and eventually the young man had felt as if he had gone crazy. 

No one but him had ever seen the odd man with the white hair. 

The hours leading up to his hospitalization were spent wandering around town, attempting to escape the silent specter. And the longer he ran, the sicker he got with every step until he was delirious and standing in the middle of the road outside the police station with his veins thick and dark against his sallow skin. 

After he was told all of that Stiles went home with his heart in his throat and buried himself in research about the man in white. He poured through thick tomes about ghosts, phantoms, and other dangerous spirits. He scoured the Internet from top to bottom, using every available search engine he could get his hands on all at the same time. 

There was only one thing that he was sure of from all that he had learned. Death was coming for him whether he wanted it to or not. 

The hours passed one by one and blurred together as Stiles lost time. Scott had called him numerous times before giving up and finally showing up with Allison and Lydia in tow. The three of them tried to get him to take a break but there was little they could do to persuade him. Stiles was determined to find out as much as he could before it was too late. He had seen the man and his Corvette sitting outside across the street hours ago and he was willing to bet that if he looked again he would still be there. 

The others didn't understand. 

They couldn't see him. 

They didn't know what he knew and wasn't about to tell them either. Scott, Allison, and Lydia - especially Lydia - didn't need to be burdened with the knowledge that he was bound for an inevitable death. He only wanted to make sure that they would be able to get rid of whoever or whatever that man was when he was gone. 

Stiles rapidly scanned the page in front of him for any words that seemed to pop out at him before quickly flipping the pages of the book and giving the same treatment to the new text in front of him. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, in any of the books or other research materials he had found that explained any of this. He was tired and the only thing he wanted to do was go to sleep, but if he did there was that lingering fear at the back of his mind that he wouldn't be waking up later. And, damn it, he couldn't leave his friends without any idea of what was out there!

Out of the corner of his eye a small, thin figure entered his line of sight and the next thing he knew a small, finely manicured hand snatched the book out from beneath his fingertips and angrily threw it against the wall across his bedroom. Before he could react, tiny hands took firm hold of his face and forced him to turn. Beautiful grass green eyes holding back a stream of tears framed by fiery red hair gazed beseechingly into his. 

“Stiles, please. You need to stop this,” she pleaded, traitorous tears flowing freely down her face now. “You're wearing yourself out! You've been in here for three days! And, and you-I've been so worried...”

He frowned. Someone as beautiful as she shouldn't be crying. Especially not over him. 

Stiles brought a hesitant hand up and tenderly wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb before softly cradling her face in his palm. She softened at his touch and leaned into his hand, her eyelids fluttering shut. “Lydia, I'll be fine,” he whispered. It was a lie and from the way she flinched he knew that she knew this too. 

“Please. Just stop for a few minutes.”

Before he realized what he was doing he was nodding at her request and was being led across the room until they were both lying on his bed. 

He didn't know how long they had laid there like that face to face on his bed but the sun had long set by now and Lydia had fallen asleep, her hair forming a deep red fan above her head on his pillow. Stiles smiled softly at the sight. This was something out of his wildest dreams. Never had he ever thought the day Lydia Martin would sleep in his bed would ever come, especially now. But yet here she was. 

Slowly, Stiles rose from his bed, careful not to wake her. He stood there for a moment longer, savoring the sight of her and burning it to his memory. If he was going to die soon then he wanted to have at least one good last memory before he was to be treated with the sad and pitying looks of his friends and family as he died. 

He quietly crept across the room until he stood looking out the window at the street below. His eyes adjusted to the darkness outside and with a heavy heart he spotted the white Corvette. Leaning against the door of the car and staring back at him was the man in white. His face was expressionless and the look in his eyes blank. 

He was waiting. 

Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat and backed away from the window. He wasn't ready to die yet. 

He glanced over at Lydia as she slept. She had looked so scared and worried for him earlier. Stiles rarely ever saw that side of her. It was strangely comforting to him to know that she cared that deeply about him. At least he knew that on some level she loved him and that was good enough for him. 

Stiles smiled softly at her before sitting back at his desk. One by one he began to clear his desk of papers and books. Some went in the trash while others were put back on the shelves. It was all pointless now. He was on borrowed time now and he had wasted so much of it researching only to find nothing useful. 

He swept his hand across the desk, pushing the rest of the loose papers over the edge and into the trash. They fluttered down and landed with a soft whishing sound. A muted thump gave him pause and Stiles stilled. He looked over the edge of his desk and saw a book lying next to the overflowing trash can. 

Upon further inspection he realized that it was a copy of the Bible. Stiles stared at it for a moment before randomly flipping through the passages. He wasn’t particularly religious but it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. After all, what did he have to lose?

Certain words seemed to stand out on the pages to him and though some of the verses he read were supposed to bring him comfort, they only served to make him feel worse. But something compelled him to keep searching through it. 

 _Death claimed and conquered all of those people and I'm going to be next_ , he thought bitterly. _And there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening either._

Stiles paused, his hands stilling over the pages of the book as his last thought ran through his head again. Quickly he shut the Bible and opened the browser on his laptop before typing five words into the search bar. He clicked on the first result and skimmed through the information. He did the same for the next five. The words seemed to pop out at him on the screen and he knew he found what he was looking for. 

Without a second thought he printed out the pages and bookmarked them too for good measure. Once they finished printing he skimmed through the information again and again and even found the same words in the Bible he had tossed aside. And each time he read the words it felt as if his heart was sinking further and further with dread and as if the lump in his throat threatened to choke him at any moment. 

The situation was worse than he originally thought. 

Much worse. 

His grip on the papers loosened and they dropped back to the desk. 

The apocalypse was coming to Beacon Hills. 

With difficulty Stiles stood and sluggishly made his way across his room until he was sitting on the edge of his bed. For some time he sat there staring off blankly at the wall, unsure of what he should do. So little time with so much that he wanted to accomplish. But eventually he decided that if he was going to die at any moment he would like to spend those last minutes with Lydia. 

He lay back down on his bed and just stared at her. She was so beautiful. It made his heart ache to think that these would be the last moments he would be able to spend with her for the rest of his life. 

Hesitantly Stiles reached a hand out to run the back of his fingers down the peaches and cream of her cheek. He smiled to himself when she sighed softly in her sleep and nuzzled against his touch. She murmured his name a moment later, making him grin. 

“Lydia,” he whispered back before wrapping her tiny body in his warm embrace and finally allowing himself to succumb to sleep and enter dreamland with her. 

* * *

Stiles didn't know how long he had been asleep but it felt as if his entire body ached liked he had been hit by a truck and then backed up on by it. And he couldn't open his eyes but he knew he was awake. 

That was the only thing he was sure of. 

He didn't know where he was. What time it was. How long he had been asleep. If his friends knew where he was. Where Lydia was. 

_Lydia._

The thought of her name brought warmth to Stiles' chest. Or at least, where he thought his chest was. He couldn't feel very much except for the aches and pains. 

He wondered where she was, if she was alright.

He missed her. 

He wished he could hear her voice one last time. 

_“Stiles.”_

It was faint but he knew it was someone calling out for him. 

_“Stiles...Stiles...wake up...please...I need you...Stiles...”_

That voice. He recognized that voice now. 

It was her. 

It was Lydia!

Stiles forced his eyelids to open but it was no use. It was like there was a weight on them. He struggled for what seemed like a lifetime before he gave up and settled on concentrating on listening to what was going on around him. 

It sounded like there were three other people in the room with him and Lydia, wherever they were. 

Two voices, one male and one female, sounded like they were farther away from Lydia. They were hushed but heated, as if the two were arguing. But about what? Him? He wasn't sure. 

The third person was quiet. If Stiles concentrated hard enough he could count their breaths, but doing so gave him a headache so he stopped. He wasn't sure but he thought it was his dad. 

Time passed sluggishly for Stiles, though it was possible that it was moving faster than he thought. He didn't know how much time had passed but eventually he became more aware of what was going on around him. The voices were clearer now. He could feel his hands now and the slight warmth of another, much smaller, hand in his own. 

With great effort he forced his eyes open. The lights were dimmed in the hospital room and he could vaguely make out the shapes of the four people in the room. A strangled gasp beside his head brought his attention to the redheaded girl sitting next to him. 

Lydia leaned forward in her seat and tightly squeezed Stiles' hand, her smile sad but full of relief. “Stiles,” she breathed. 

He grinned weakly back at her. “You miss me?” he asked. She gave a shaky laugh at his lame attempt at a joke. 

Behind her Scott and Allison had stopped their bickering, his eyes returning back to their dark brown from their werewolf yellow as they stared at Stiles in shock. They both rushed forward until they stood beside Lydia. 

“How do you feel, man?” Scott asked his voice hushed. 

Stiles shrugged the best he could. “I've definitely been better. Feel like I've been thrown out of a moving truck and then ran over by it a couple dozen times but other than that I'm fine.” His friends gave him weak smiles but he could tell that they were on the verge of breaking down in tears. 

Allison inched closer to the bed, tears in her eyes. “You're going to be alright, Stiles. You'll be out of here in no time.”

Stiles wanted to laugh but he knew that if he did he would be in even more pain than he already was. “Yeah, I'll be out of here alright. In a body bag.” It was insensitive, he knew that, but it was also true. He didn't see himself leaving the hospital in any other way. 

Her composure broke and the tears fell freely down her cheeks. Allison grasped at Scott's shirt blindly as she sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and stared at his best friend, stricken and utterly devastated by these turn of events. 

Lydia let out a strangled sob and grabbed desperately at Stiles' arm. “No! I won't let that happen!” she cried out. 

Stiles smiled softly at the banshee and raised a darkly veined arm to run his fingers through her red locks. “It's going to be okay, Lydia. I promise.”

She shook her head defiantly. “It's not. You're dying and there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening...I'm not ready for you to go yet, Stilinski.” He just continued to smile at her. That defiant look in her eye told him that there was nothing he could say to reassure her. 

“Son.” 

Stiles tore his eyes away from Lydia to look at his father. The utter devastation and intangible sadness in his eyes made him flinch and cringe away. That was the very look he had been hoping to avoid from the very beginning. 

It was the same look his father had when it was his mother that was lying in a bed like this. 

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I love you,” he choked out, grasping tightly at his hand. 

Stiles gave him a watery smile and squeezed back. “I love you, too, Dad.”

A new round of tears ran down the Sheriff's face at his words and with one last salty-eyed glance, Stiles' father stood and shuffled out of the room. Stiles tried not to let the searing pain in his heart bother him too much at his departure. He knew that seeing him like this was too much for his father, but it still hurt to see him go. 

The warmth still in his hand brought his attention back to the pretty girl sitting at his bedside. He smiled and she smiled back. 

“Don't go,” Lydia whispered. 

“I'll try,” he told her. He could tell that wasn't the answer she was looking for but was going to take what she could get. “I love you,” he said, never taking his eyes off of her. “All of you.”

Allison sniffled miserably into Scott's t-shirt. “We love you, too, Stiles.”

“I love you, too, man,” Scott returned, squeezing tightly at Allison's shoulders to comfort both of them. 

Lydia said nothing, not that he expected her to say anything in the first place. But he knew that she loved him, too, from the way that she looked at him. As if a part of her was dying with him, too. 

The two stared at each other for an immeasurable moment of time that spoke volumes. It said everything that they were too afraid to say and more.

_I love you._

_I know. I love you, too._

_I wish you don't have to go._

_I wish that, too._

_I'm going to miss you._

_I'll miss you more._

_Don't go!_

_I have to..._

Their connection broke when she closed her eyes and finally let the tears that she had been holding back all night fall. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He had never seen her look as breathtaking as he did now and he was glad he got to see her like this. 

She draped her body across his and cried, barring her grief and pain for all to see. 

Stiles ached to comfort her but found that he could no longer move his arms. He felt tired and ready to slip back into unconsciousness but he fought the urge. A part of him knew that if he closed his eyes he would not be waking up later. 

He would not let Death conquer him. 

The thought struck his mind sharply and he fought the stupor of sleep. “Apoc...alypse,” he rasped out. “Com...ing. Here...Four Horsemen.” He paused, blinking rapidly. 

One more thing, just one more, and then he could rest. 

“Lydia, I-I love you.”

And then he heard a white noise that drowned out all other sounds. His sight blurred to near-nothingness until the familiar pale face of Conquest hovered over his. Stiles heard him speak clearly over the din but never saw his lips move. 

“Forgive me, child. I never wanted to do any of this but she forced me to. And I do hope that you know that I didn’t want to harm any of you mortals,” he whispered. He paused, eying Stiles in an odd way. “Perhaps letting you live will set things back on their rightful course.”

Faint like a whisper, Stiles heard a scream of anguish but he ignored it and focused on the man in front of him. 

Conquest trailed off to stare at something Stiles could not see but whatever he was looking at must have solidified his decision. He then reached out a deathly pale hand with the thin outline of a crown tattooed in the junction between his thumb and forefinger and lightly touched Stiles' face with the tips of his fingers. Upon contact warmth spread through his entire body. All of his aches and pains had washed away at once and Stiles felt a million times better. The pale man gave him one last cryptic smile before vanishing. 

With the pain gone he let his eyes slide shut and fell into a deep dreamless sleep, assured that he would be waking up later. 


	2. Week Two, Part One - War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I heard the second living creature say, “Come!” - Revelation 6:3

Scott squeezed his eyes shut and tightly clutched Allison in his arms as Lydia screamed in the most horrific way, as if someone had stuck her with a red-hot poker and was trying to skin her alive at the same time. 

“ _Noooooo_!” she shrieked, grasping at the limp hand in both of hers. She shook it as if it would bring him back to her. 

The sound of the heart monitor flat lining had triggered her terrible scream of denial and it still rang loud in his ears, but it couldn't drown out the continuous beep of the machine telling him his best friend was dead. 

Allison lurched out of his embrace and wrapped her arms around Lydia. The two girls sobbed in each other’s arms. 

Scott brought a hand up to cover his face as his own tears fell. His legs felt like Jell-O that had been sitting on the counter all night. They buckled once before letting out and dropping him down to his knees and he let his grief take over. 

Stiles was gone. 

His best friend, his brother in every way, but biological, was gone. 

Dead. 

He couldn't believe it. Never had he imagined that this day would come so soon. Scott had always thought that they would live long lives and do the things normal people did, like get married, get a job, have kids, and grow old with that significant other with some grandchildren running around while they sat back and reminisced. 

But they weren't normal people with normal, boring lives. 

They lived in Beacon Hills, California, the supernatural capital of the country. Weird things happened on a daily basis in what was supposed to be a quiet little town in the northern part of the state. Werewolves lurked, kanimas ran around killing people for their masters, and evil dark Druids made human sacrifices of the locals. 

None of those things were normal, but it was the normal Scott and his friends had adopted. Hell, he was a werewolf himself – a True Alpha at that – and Lydia was a banshee!

They couldn't even say that they were normal teenagers!

He had just never factored into all of it that his best friend would die at sixteen. 

It was an impossible thing, but it had still happened. 

The sound of a fourth steady heart beat going thump, thump, thump in the room shook Scott from his agonized thoughts. Slowly he pulled his hand from his face and stared in disbelief and shock. 

When Stiles' heart had stopped, his eyes had glazed over and stared blankly at the ceiling. His chest had no longer moved with each shallow breath he took. He was completely and utterly dead in every sense of the word. 

But now his heart was beating again, if the monitor's steady rhythmic beeps were evidence that Scott's ears weren't playing tricks on him. And his eyes were closed now too, a contented smile on Stiles' face. His chest moved with every breath he took. And as Scott watched the blackness of Stiles' veins slowly receded down his face and neck and going back up his arms. 

_He's alive._

Scott figured that he must have said that last thought out loud because Lydia jerked out of Allison's embrace to look at Stiles. He watched as she quickly scanned his body before turning to scrutinize the screens of the monitors and machines that Stiles was all hooked up to. She obviously liked what she saw if the wide smile of relief that had spread across her face was any indicator. Lydia grasped Stiles' hand tightly in both of her own and looked over at him and Allison. 

“He's alive,” she repeated with reverence, the happiness obvious in her voice and in the spark that lit up her eyes. 

The three friends shared grateful smiles at the fact. 

Maybe everything would be okay...

* * *

Monday morning came all too soon a couple days later. 

The alarm blared loudly at seven on the dot. Annoyed, Scott blindly slapped at the snooze button and burrowed back beneath the warm covers of his bed. He wanted to forget everything Stiles had said after he woke up late Saturday morning and pretend that he was a normal teenager again like he was before he had received the bite. As he lay in bed, Scott replayed the morning in his head…

It was almost ten o'clock in the morning. He and Allison had left the hospital at around six to shower and get something to eat while they let Lydia and Sheriff Stilinski have a few minutes alone. They had returned an hour later and switched places with them. Lydia had returned, but the Sheriff had to go back to the station. Something had happened and his deputies needed him to be there. 

After Stiles had returned to the land of the living there had been no change other than the veins of his body no longer being an unnatural black but a healthy light blue. And that was good. The doctors had no medical explanation for what had happened and nor did Scott and the others have a supernatural one. Deaton couldn't even explain it. 

But they didn't care. All that mattered was that he was alive and healthy. 

“When do you think he's going to wake up?” Allison had asked. She was sitting in the chair the Sheriff had previously occupied now. 

Scott shrugged from his spot beside her. “Don't know. Mom said he would wake up when he was ready when I asked her.” 

She nodded and squeezed at his hand. Confused, he squeezed back and stared at her. Since the night of the surrogate sacrifice she had been shockingly getting close to him. He had thought that she would have gotten close to Isaac since he was her tether, not him. He and Deaton had gotten a little closer that night and obviously Stiles and Lydia did, too. She would touch him at almost every chance and on more than one occasion it seemed as if they would come close to kissing. The things she did confused him. But he loved her still. 

Maybe he would see where things went. 

Scott glanced over at Lydia. A part of him wasn't very surprised that she had gotten close to him. Before the night of the sacrifice they had already gotten close, solving the mysteries of the sacrifices and the Darach together. That night only brought them closer together more than anything. 

She was lying on the bed with Stiles, both of her hands clutched tightly around one of his. He could hear her whispering to him about how worried she had been and how she hoped he would never put her through that again. 

“I would have missed you so much, Stiles,” she murmured. 

“I would have missed you, too, Lydia,” he whispered back. 

Lydia sat up in shock and stared at him for a beat before launching herself at him and wrapping her arms tight around his neck. “Stiles!” she shrieked happily. He chuckled at her exuberance and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Hi,” she whispered, suddenly shy. 

Stiles hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look into her eyes. “Hi.” She smiled again before placing a kiss on his cheek. His grin grew wider at the gesture. He glanced around, his eyes lighting up when he spotted Scott and Allison. “Hey guys. Miss me?”

Allison jumped up out of her seat and wrapped him in a tight hug. “Of course we missed you, Stiles,” she cried out. 

She pulled away to let Scott have his turn. He stepped forward and tightly gripped his best friend in a hug of his own. “I'm glad you're okay, man. For a few minutes there we thought we lost you.”

“You did. Conquest got me and the others are going to come.”

The three stared at him in confusion before Lydia broke the silence. “That's what you were trying to tell us. You were trying to warn us about the Horsemen.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Conquest was the one that was killing all of those people and he killed me, too. But he felt bad, so he let me live. Said something about putting everything back the way it was before.”

Scott felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of water over his head. “What? What are you guys talking about?”

“The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Scott. Conquest, War, Famine and Death.” Stiles ticked each one off on his fingers. “Each of them is set to bring the apocalypse and the end of the world while riding on their horses. Or in this case, driving their cars.”

Lydia curled her legs up beneath her and stared at him. “They must have a purposing in coming here, though. Conquest only targeted Beacon Hills so they must want something from here, from someone. Did he tell you anything else?” she asked.

Stiles went to shake his head before pausing. “Yeah, he did actually. He said something about a she forcing him to kill those people. I don’t know what he meant or who she is but it’s obviously someone who has more power than him.”

“Do you think the Nemeton signaled the Horsemen to town?” Allison asked. “Like Lydia said, there must be a reason why they chose here of all places.”

Scott crossed his arms and shook his head. “I don’t know what that reason is but it still doesn’t change that fact that they’re coming.” The others silently agreed. It was only a matter of time before the next Horseman came to Beacon Hills…

He blinked and dragged himself out of bed. If War was coming Scott was going to be prepared for it the best he could be.

* * *

Scott pulled his helmet off just as the familiar blue jeep pulled up next to him. He watched bemused as Stiles swung out of the driver's side to the ground and then threw both of his hands up in the air. 

“It's good to be back!” he exclaimed, striking a goofy pose in the middle of the parking lot. 

Scott snickered to himself at Stiles' typical behavior. He was definitely feeling better. 

Students around them either rolled their eyes or outright ignored him, but most stopped to take a double take as Lydia slid out of the passenger seat of his jeep. She ignored them and quickly shuffled to Stiles' side in her high heels. 

“Stop that! You're being embarrassing,” she hissed at him while trying to tug one of his arms down. 

Stiles grinned down at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringing her tight against his side. “Aww, but, Lydia, you'd be doing the same thing if you had died.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes at him. “No, I wouldn't be.”

Scott laughed at them, alerting them to his presence. He dismounted his bike and went over to stand next to Lydia and Stiles. “Morning,” he greeted them. He raised his eyebrows at his best friend and smirked. Red tinged Stiles cheeks and he looked away, discreetly pulling his arm away from around Lydia. 

The exchange did not go unnoticed by Lydia and she rolled her eyes at the two boys. “I'll see you in class, Stiles,” she told him before walking away. 

“What's going on with you two?”

Stiles dug his hands into his pockets and shrugged, looking away as they followed after her. “Nothing, Scott. She just wants to make sure that I'm okay.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. I think it's something more. You should have seen her when you were admitted Friday night. Doctors had to sedate her for a little while. And, when you died, man, you should have heard her scream. It was bad to say the least.” Scott could hear a phantom echo of it now and it still sent chills down his spine. It was one of the most terrifying things he had ever heard in his life. 

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly he was being shoved face-first into a locker. “What the hell!” he yelled out, rubbing his stinging face. Scott immediately grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet while looking around the hallway for the culprit. 

Some students snickered and pointed while others stared confused and bewildered in the direction of the freshman who had shoved Stiles in his haste to get away from the upperclassman that was angrily chasing after him. It was weird. Bullying happened at Beacon Hills High like any other high school, but it never went as far as this. There was typical teasing and name calling and a few other things, but as far as Scott knew it never got physical. Stuff like that just never happened. 

A flash of fiery red hair accompanied by a giggle out of the corner of his eye caught Scott's attention. He looked around for the flash of red hair, but didn't see it again. 

“Ugh,” Stiles moaned, turning the combination on his locker. “Maybe Lydia was right; I should have just stayed at home today.” He rubbed his face again to soothe the stinging pain before quickly grabbing the books he needed for his morning classes. 

“Maybe,” Scott agreed absent-mindedly as he grabbed his own books from his locker and followed Stiles to their first period class. 

In between first and second period Scott had counted three fights that had quickly escalated to brawls where teachers and students alike had to pull people apart before someone got hurt. It didn't make any sense. Some of the people who were in these fights were good friends as far as he knew and friends didn't try to strangle each other. 

Scott entered his English class and slid into his seat while Stiles sat behind him. Lydia walked in a minute later and immediately moved to sit in the seat beside Stiles. The smile on her face fell once she spotted the light bruising on his face. 

“Who did this to you?” she demanded, leaning across the aisle to lightly run the tips of her fingers against the bruising.

He winced and pulled her hand away but held it tight. “It doesn't matter. Some freshman shoved me into a locker trying to run away from a senior.” Lydia opened her mouth to say something but Stiles beat her to the punch. “And before you ask, I'm fine, Lydia.”

Scott snickered at their exchange in amusement just as Allison sat in the seat beside him. The wild look in her eyes and the frantic beating of her heart drained away the last of his laughter. He leaned in toward her, catching her gaze. “What's wrong? What happened?”

She gave him a pinched look and shook her head in disbelief. “Someone in my French class tried to kill the girl that sits in front of me.”

His jaw fell open in shock. “You're not serious are you?” he asked. 

Allison nodded, her hands holding a death grip on her pen. “Everything was fine one minute and then the guy lunges out of his seat at her with the intent to snap her neck the next. What the hell is going on today, Scott? On my way here I saw at least two fights in the halls.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Their substitute teacher walked in then. The entire town had no idea what had happened to their previous teacher Ms. Jennifer Blake. She had disappeared in the middle of the night and no one saw her again. Scott and the others suspected that she had fled from town after that night.

The sub wrote the group assignment on the board and told them to get to work before sitting down at the desk and ignoring them for the rest of the period. 

The four teens jumped at the opportunity and turned their desks into a circle. 

Stiles leaned across his desk. “Are you sure he was trying to kill her? He could have been trying to, I dunno, kiss her?” he whispered. 

“If you call putting your hands around a girl's neck and squeezing the life out of her a kiss, then yes, Stiles, he was trying to kiss her,” Allison replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. 

“There've been a lot of fights breaking out in the halls this morning and after you were shoved into a locker I thought I saw a flash of red hair. Maybe the next Horseman is already here,” Scott suggested. He wasn't sure but it was the only explanation for what was going on. 

Lydia stared intently at the bruising on Stiles' face. There was a small furrow between her brows and she had a thoughtful look on her face. “I think you're right. After I left you guys this morning I saw a woman in the hall outside the office. She was wearing a short red dress that left very little to imagine and had bright red hair.” She paused, biting at her lips, as she thought back. “It looked like her hair was on fire.”

Stiles reached out to hold her hand. “What happened, Lydia? What did you see?”

“She was talking to some guy, a senior. Then she smiled at him before walking away,” she remembered. “The guy had a weird look on his face afterward, like he was suddenly angry, murderous actually. And then a freshman walked by. He must have looked at the guy the wrong way because he suddenly started chasing after him.” She finished and placed her hand gently against Stiles' cheek where the bruise was. 

Scott shared a look with Stiles. It sounded like the same senior-freshman combo from this morning. “Then that means the woman you saw was probably War, Lydia.”

“If she's War, then she's got to have a target. Conquest made it clear that he wanted me and that the others were just casualties,” Stiles pointed out.

“Yeah, but who? We still don't know why he wanted you dead in the first place,” Scott pointed out. They looked at each other, the same question on all of their minds. 

Who was War after?

They couldn't come up with any ideas so they worked on their assignment for the rest of the period before going to their next class. 

Scott spent the rest of the morning watching out for more fights. He had the displeasure of witnessing Greenberg take a swing at Danny in the middle of Economics. Coach Finstock had basically just stood there with his mouth gaping open like a fish as he stared and did nothing. Stiles, Scott, and Isaac had immediately jumped up and pulled an enraged Greenberg off of poor, innocent Danny before he could do any damage. 

When this had happened Scott had seen a red Mustang sitting parked against the curb out the window of the classroom. And standing next to it was a woman dressed in red. With his sharp sight, Scott was able to see that the woman was only a handful of years older than him and had bright red hair in big giant curls. The longer he watched her it seemed as if her hair was made of pure flame.

She had a cruel smile on her face as she stared into the classroom. It was like she enjoyed watching Greenberg attempt to choke the life out of Danny. 

Scott looked away when Coach unfroze and started to yell obscenities at Greenberg, telling him to go to the principal's office and for someone to help Danny to the nurse's office. By the time he looked back out the window both the woman and the Mustang were gone. 

When lunch came around, he was sick and tired of seeing all of the fighting and near murders in the halls. It was concerning to see all of the people he had grown up with try and kill each other, but it really just seemed like War was playing with them. No one actually killed anyone. 

It was like she was trying to make a point. That whatever she was doing could affect anyone. 

After he grabbed his lunch, Scott looked around for his friends before finally spotting Stiles sitting across from Allison. He shot her a quick smile before sliding into the seat next to her. She gave him a shy quirk of her mouth in return just as Isaac sat down on his other side.

“There’s something wrong with these people today,” he muttered under his breath to the others as he dropped his tray down on the table.

Stiles pointed at Isaac with his chocolate pudding covered spoon. “War is messing with them, Isaac. If I were you I’d hold onto that little scarf of yours and hope that she doesn’t get you next. And do you see this?” he asked, pointing at the dark bruise on his face. “This could be you when someone shoves you into a locker trying to get away from their attacker. Or when you can’t get away from _your_ attacker.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll just use these,” he said, subtly releasing his claws before putting them away. Stiles scowled at him and shoved the spoon into his mouth but didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later Lydia sat down in the seat next to Stiles. “It’s getting worse. You’re dad had to come and arrest two students and one of the teachers.” The mood at the table turned somber at her announcement. It was definitely getting worse.

Eventually the conversation picked back up at the table.

Scott watched as Stiles jumped in his seat like he had just been electrocuted. His brow furrowed as his best friend’s face took on a pink tinge.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Stiles’ face turned a darker shade of pink and looked everywhere but at his friends. “Um, yeah, I’m fine, Scott. It’s nothing for you to worry your little wolfy head about,” he squeaked.

Scott nodded, not really believing him, but Stiles ignored him.

Stiles sucked in a breath and bit his lip before mustering the courage to look down at his lap. And there Lydia’s hand rested on his thigh near his knee. He sucked in another sharp, surprised breath before shooting her a wild look. She just smiled and squeezed his knee before leaning in close enough for him to smell the floral scent of her shampoo.

“Are you okay?” she murmured softly, her green eyes meeting his brown ones.

He nodded. “Yeah, but, um, Lydia, what’s going on here?” he asked, pointing at where her hand was.

She didn’t answer him but instead wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. Stiles froze beneath her touch but after a moment he relaxed and responded, wrapping his arms around her slim waist and pulling her tight against his body

They pulled away after a few moments, barely aware of the wolf whistles, cheers, and gasps of shock that surrounded them.

“What was that for?” he panted against her lips.

Lydia grinned and gave him a quick kiss. “That was me taking a chance. When I woke up Friday night and, no matter how hard I tried, you didn’t…I thought I had lost you. I was devastated. And then when Scott told me what the black veins meant, a part of me died. I wasn’t – I _am not_ – ready to lose you, Stiles, and I don’t want to have regrets for if I do.”

He searched her green eyes for the answers to his unspoken questions and got lost in the emotion he found. It was the same look she had given him Saturday but so much better because there was no sadness this time. 

“I love you, Stiles,” she whispered against his lips. “More than I could ever have imagined.”

Stiles grinned at her words and enthusiastically pressed his lips against hers again. “I love you too, Lydia.” They kissed again and only pulled away at the sound of their friends’ teasing.

Behind the oblivious, happy couple Scott spotted Ethan holding Aiden back near the doors. He grimaced, but he wasn’t a threat yet, not until he actually attacked.

Scott focused back on his friends and grinned again. He was happy for them. At least there was still some happiness and good in their little messed up world, despite all of the death and murder that constantly surrounded them.

Suddenly Allison’s leg brushed against his. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at her and matched her shy grin.

“What?” he whispered, still grinning.

“Nothing,” she giggled back, hiding behind the dark curtain of her hair. Scott chuckled to himself and focused back on his lunch.

He glanced back across the table at Stiles and Lydia and felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to have what they had, badly. But he was still unsure, still so confused about what was going on between them. If he made a move and it was totally off base, then he would feel stupid and embarrassed.

He was just better off waiting for her to make the first move. Yeah, just letting Allison make the first move would be way better.

The bell to signal that lunch was over sounded a few minutes and they split up to go to their respective classes.

A few hours later the day ended and Scott and the others met up in the parking lot immediately after the last bell. They made plans to meet at Scott’s later that night to try and figure out a way to deal with War. Maybe they would be able to get rid of her before she caused any more damage and turn more innocent people into killers and murders.

Stiles and Lydia took off to go to his house and try to do some more research on the Horsemen while Allison went home to do some research of her own using her family bestiary. Isaac had to stay behind to make up a test he had missed on Friday when he had taken a shift to check on Stiles.

Just as Scott was about to mount his bike the red Mustang skidded diagonally into the parking spot next to him. He tensed as the door opened and War slithered out.

Now that he got to see her up close, Scott noticed that she was very pretty. Beautiful, in fact, but he could tell that her beauty was dangerous. Subtly, he took War in from head to toe.

She was dressed all in red. The high heeled boots that went up to her thighs were as red as her nails. And the dress she wore was made out of some sort of shiny material in the same shade of bright red. It had no straps and was really short and skintight. Idly, Scott wondered how she was able to walk in it with the way it was constraining her legs. 

War stepped toward him and he froze. Her very presence made the hair on the back of his neck prickle and stand on end. She stepped closer and he straightened his back and stood tall. The wolf growled within, begging to be released, but he held it back. 

“What do you want?” he growled out. 

The corner of her mouth lifted up and the fire in her eyes flickered. “Oh, pretty,” she cooed, completely ignoring him. “I love what you've done to your eyes. We match.” War moved close enough to touch him but he held his ground. He wasn't afraid of her. 

“Why are you here? Who do you want?” he demanded. He wanted answers from her, but he really just wanted her gone. 

War pouted at him and draped her arms around his neck. Scott growled and made to throw her off. “Now, now, I don't think you want to make a scene. Not with all of these lovely witnesses,” she hissed. One of her hands snaked up to fist painfully in his hair and tugged. He bit back a howl of pain.

He could hear the grin in her voice when she spoke. “Darling, you're mine. You have such a large role to play in her plans and it’ll be worth it. Mmm, I can just taste all of the pain, the strife, the chaos, that you will cause,” she purred. “And it will be delicious.” She sealed her words with a searing kiss. 

With an angry roar Scott shoved her away, a clawed hand digging into the flesh of each of her arms, both tattooed with the outline of a sword. “I'm nobody's to control and manipulate,” he snarled, the wolf within him raging, begging to be released. Begging to attack and rip her her throat out. 

War cackled maniacally and before he could blink her face was less than an inch away from his. Her pretty face was twisted into a snarl and had turned the same shade of shocking red as her dress. Her red eyes flickered and flamed like a fire that had just been dowsed in gasoline, further giving her the appearance of a she-demon. 

“ _You are mine, child!_ ” she roared, voice taking on an inhuman quality and her red hair turning to pure flame. 

The ground shook and rumbled beneath Scott's feet and he released her to lean on his bike. Nausea overtook him and he felt like he was going to be sick as the world shook. The shaking stopped and the feeling passed almost immediately. 

Slowly, Scott looked around him for any witnesses to what had just happened but found none. It was all disturbingly still. 

A whisper of a giggle on the wind met his sensitive ears and he flinched, turning to look for any signs of War. But both she and her Mustang were gone. 

* * *

Scott held a hand up to his head as he stumbled down the deserted hallway. He felt out of control. He couldn't control his wolf without going berserk on everyone around him. Getting a grasp over his emotions was difficult, too. One minute he would be calm and happy, but the next he would be filled with so much anger and rage. 

He didn't know what was happening to him. And it scared him. 

After that single encounter with War Monday afternoon he wasn't himself anymore. And it was Friday now. 

The sound of two frantically beating hearts suddenly pounded in his ears. He paused in the middle of the hallway for less than a second before tearing off back the way he came. Scott heard the voices before he saw them. 

“Aiden, don't. It's not his fault,” Lydia murmured, her voice low but firm. 

There was a low growl before he responded. “He took you from me and I'm going to make him pay for that.”

“Did you threaten me? Did he just threaten me? Look, Fido, I'm going to tell you what I told your brother. I'm going to break off an extra large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freaking-!”

“Stiles!” Lydia snapped. “You're not helping!”

They fell silent just as Scott skidded around the corner. He took in the scene with sharp eyes, seeing everything in the few seconds before Aiden made his move. Stiles and Lydia were backed into a corner by the locker room with the enraged wolf in front of them. Lydia was in a protective stance in front of Stiles with her back straight and head held high as she stared defiantly at Aiden who, eyes glowing a cold, icy blue and fangs out, was towering over her and angrily glaring at Stiles over her head. 

“Time to die,” he growled lunging at them. 

Scott willed himself to shift and rushed down the hall at the same moment just as Stiles grabbed Lydia and dragged her down the hallway with him. He collided with Aiden and they went crashing down to the floor. A red haze suddenly clouded his vision and Scott felt a burning rage fuel his every action in that moment. 

He was no longer in control anymore. 

He gripped Aiden by the hair on his head in a death-grip and bashed his head against the linoleum of the floor once, twice, three times, spilling his blood before the other werewolf was able to throw him off and send him flying through the air. With a menacing growl Scott back flipped midair and landed on his feet in a crouched position. He charged at Aiden who was prepared for him. 

Aiden blocked Scott's attack and they went skidding a few feet back in the opposite direction. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Scott slashed at his stomach, drawing gushing red blood from the angry gaping wounds left behind by his sharp claws. In retaliation the omega made to punch the alpha in the jaw, but Scott anticipated that and caught his fist mid swing. With a cruel smile Scott forced his wrist back until he heard the bones grind and crack, the excruciating pain bringing Aiden to his knees with a loud shriek of pain that echoed hauntingly throughout the hallway. 

“Stay away from Stiles, and stay away from Lydia.  _Stay away from my pack_ ,” he growled, eyes glowing the bright red of the alpha. It wasn't a request. 

Frantically, Aiden nodded his head as he stared, frightened, up at Scott. He had never seen him behave like this before. It wasn't normal. 

Scott smirked, satisfied, before releasing him. The defeated omega slumped in relief, cradling his broken wrist.

But that wasn't the end of it. 

Too fast for Aiden to react, Scott had landed a single blow to his chest with the toe of his boot. Aiden went flying backward and hit a row of lockers with a low grunt of pain.  With sick satisfaction the corners of Scott's turned up into a cruel sneer at the sight of the dark blood that spilled from his mouth. It brought warmth to his chest that added fuel to the burning rage within him, reminding him why he was there, why he was beating the crap out of Aiden. 

“I'd watch my back if I were you. I might not be this nice next time.”

With one last menacing look Scott walked out of the school. On his way out he passed a bewildered Stiles and Lydia where they stood rooted at the end of the hall. 

They shared a look of shock and confusion as their hearts drummed a furious beat in their chests. “What the hell?” he mouthed at her too shocked to actually say the words out loud. Lydia shrugged at him helplessly before grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall after Scott. 

The two caught up with Scott just outside the main doors. He was standing with his back turned to them and his face buried in his hands, shoulders heaving. 

Ignoring Lydia's silent plea for him to be cautious, Stiles quickly kissed her cheek in a reassuring manner before letting go of her hand and moving to stand next to his best friend. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Scott? Scott, man, what was that back there? I-I have never seen you like that before,” Stiles whispered. “For a second there I thought you were going to kill him.”

Scott's shoulders quivered with silent sobs at his words. He couldn't believe he had just done that. He wouldn't have done that before. That wasn't him. That wasn't the kind of alpha he wanted to be. 

_What's wrong with me?_

“Scott?”

He blinked at the sound of his name. 

Scott pulled his hands away from his face, suddenly aware of the wetness. He looked up into the concerned faces of Lydia and Stiles and saw in their eyes all the proof he needed. It really was him that nearly killed Aiden. 

“I don't know what's wrong with me, Stiles. I wanted to kill him back there. I've felt this rage, this anger, burning inside of me all week. It isn't normal. I've never felt like this before. I wasn’t in control. There's something wrong with me.” He struggled to put his thoughts and feelings into words and verbalize them. His mind ran a mile a minute and he could still feel the fury and rage simmering just below the surface, just waiting to be released onto some poor unsuspecting soul. “Maybe it has to do with the night we died for our parents.”

It was like a light bulb went off in his head and Stiles scowled. 

Scott was War's target. 

He took Scott by the shoulders and roughly shook his best friend. “That has nothing to do with it, Scott. It's War. She's doing this to you. You have to fight her.”

“I don't know how to, Stiles. I'm aware, but not at the same time. When the anger and rage comes, I'm not in control of what I'm doing anymore and I can't stop until it's too late.”

Stiles shook his head in exasperation and clenched his hands at his sides before shoving them into his hair. He really wanted to shake some sense into Scott, make him see past what War was doing to him. When Conquest was around he had made Stiles feel a constant paranoia with a twinge of insanity just because he was the only one who could see the Horseman. But he had fought against it until the very last moment. 

Scott needed to be strong. He needed to believe that he was the one in control. That no one dictated his life, his actions and decisions, except for him. 

He needed to remember that he was the alpha. 

He opened his mouth to tell Scott but paused at Lydia's touch and glanced down at where her hand rested on his upper arm. Slowly he pulled his hands from his hair until they rested by his sides. 

She lifted up onto the tips of her toes and pressed the length of her body against his, her lips a hairsbreadth away from his ear. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of her breath on his neck. “Look,” she breathed. Stiles followed her line of sight and froze. His arms slipped around Lydia's waist and he held her tight against him. 

The cherry red Mustang slowly rolled down the street before stopping to idle in front of the school. As the three of them stared two bright red eyes glared back, projecting a fiery mix of anger and rage. The eyes glowed in the darkness and took on a wicked glint before flickering like a raging flame. 

War revved the engine of her Mustang and sped off down the street tires squealing and rubber burning. 

Stiles released the breath he didn't know he was holding and hugged Lydia to him, closing his eyes as he breathed in the familiar floral perfume of her shampoo. 

They swayed back and forth in each other’s arms in silence. “I wish she was gone,” Lydia whispered after a few moments. 

“Me too,” he murmured back.

“So many people have gotten hurt all week.”

“I know…We should go. Scott, I think we should talk to Derek about this.” When he got no response Stiles' eyes snapped open and he quickly scanned the area around them. 

“Scott?”

He was gone. 


	3. Week Two, Part Two - War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make people kill each other. To him was given a large sword. - Revelation 6:4

Stiles sped down the dark streets of Beacon Hills, unsure of where he was going. Lydia sat next to him, her fingers flying across the screen of her phone as she sent texts out to Allison, Isaac, and Derek, letting them know what was going on. 

The two were silent the entire time, but he was sure that she wanted to say something. Stiles knew she would eventually voice whatever was on her mind, even if he had to coax it out of her first. 

They drove around for over an hour before Lydia's phone lit up and buzzed with an incoming text. 

“Who is it?” He turned onto his street and idled in front of his house. His dad's cruiser was parked in the driveway and the flickering screen of the TV lit up the front windows. He could see him moving around in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets looking for something to eat. Stiles looked away and turned in his seat to face Lydia. 

She unlocked her phone and opened the message. “Allison. She wants to meet up with us.”

“Tell her to go to Derek's,” he instructed before pulling away and speeding off down the street. 

The silence this time ate at Stiles. He didn't like it. It was like having an itch that he couldn't scratch. Without taking his eyes off the road he reached over to take Lydia's hand in his own. He threaded their fingers and lightly squeezed in reassurance. 

“It's going to be okay.” He didn't even believe his own words. 

Lydia must not have either because she scoffed. “When has it ever been okay, Stiles? Last week you were dead and this week Scott is being controlled by one of the Four Horsemen! And don't even get me started on all of the crap that just happened last month.” 

She felt a little hysterical and it was justified. The sacrifices. The darach. The alphas. Conquest, and now War. It was all catching up to her again. That short little two week reprieve in between was barely enough time to relax and put the nightmares behind them. 

“I don't how we’re going to survive until graduation,” she confessed. 

Stiles gripped her hand tighter. He didn't know either. They just barely scraped by with their lives as it was. How long was it going to be until he had another brush with Death?

The rest of the drive was spent in tense silence, both lost in their thoughts. Eventually Stiles pulled up to Derek's building. He parked next to Allison's Toyota and turned the ignition off on his Jeep.

He knew that she still wanted to say something to him. It was obvious in the way Lydia kept fidgeting in her seat the entire drive and the way she kept biting her lip. Stiles turned in his seat to face her and reached over to take her hand in his. 

“What's wrong, Lydia?”

“I just have a really bad feeling about tonight, like I’m going to lose you,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

He frowned and cupped her face with his free hand. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere for a very long time,” he promised before leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in his warmth and comfort.

Suddenly someone dropped down on the hood of Stiles’ jeep and they jumped apart like they had just been electrocuted. Lydia let out a shriek when she saw the dark hulking figure move toward them. The shadowed figure slowly looked up at them and familiar, humor-filled glowing yellow eyes peered at them in the darkness before leaning in toward them, the moonlight revealing the grinning face of the young werewolf.

“Are you two just going to sit here and makeout all night, or what?” Isaac teased them, back flipping off the hood.

Stiles shoved his door open, grumbling to himself about teenage werewolves, and jumped out before helping Lydia. He slipped a hand into hers and they followed Isaac inside. The three of them rode the elevator up and a few minutes later they were standing inside Derek’s loft.

“You can’t be serious,” Derek deadpanned, glancing around at everyone. “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? All of them? Here in Beacon Hills?” He sounded skeptical. 

Stiles coughed. “Yeah, no. Just War. Conquest left last week after he took pity and let me live.”

Derek glared at him before crossing his arms. “And where does Scott fit in all of this?”

“Well, I'm glad you asked, Derek. Scott is War's target and she is somehow using some Jedi mind tricks to control him. He friggin' attacked Aiden today and almost killed him.” Stiles flashed back to earlier and flinched at the memory. He had never seen Scott like that before and he hoped he never had to again. 

Lydia squeezed his hand in reassurance as she stared up at him with her big green eyes. He hid behind his sarcasm and snarky comments to cover up his fear and panic but she knew the truth. She could see it in the tightening of his eyes and the stiff way he held his body. 

He met her gaze and squeezed back, giving her a quick smile of thanks, before focusing back on the former alpha. 

“And now he's missing,” Derek surmise. He glanced around at the teenagers. “Do any of you know what the Horseman wants with him?”

Allison shook her head. “No. We still don't know what Conquest was trying to accomplish by killing Stiles. As far as we know he was following someone else's orders.”

“And War has done just as much damage as Conquest if not more,” Lydia added. 

“What's this I hear about the Four Horsemen?” Lydia bristled at the sound of the unwelcome voice and scowled as she watched Peter slither down the stairs. 

He smirked as he glanced around at the teenagers, coming to a stop at the landing. “You kiddies should be afraid of them. When one of them wants something, there's no stopping them. Especially if she's the one that's dishing out the orders,” Peter warned, his smirk widening ever so slightly. “And you should be careful,” he said, pointing at Lydia. “She's probably already angry that Conquest failed to kill you, Stiles. Imagine her wrath if War fails.” He mock shivered before letting out a little laugh. 

Lydia's scowl deepened and she glared at him with hatred seeping from every pore. She made to say something, but Stiles' grip on her wrist held her back. 

“So you know who they're working for?” Isaac asked from where he stood near the windows. 

Peter grinned at him. “Oh, we all know who she is. We've met her several times this past year and Miss Martin is attuned to her much more than we are.” He glanced over at her. “Aren't you, Lydia?”

“Don't talk to her,” Stiles spit out, pushing her to stand behind him. 

“How cute,” he drawled out mockingly. “Little itty bitty baby Stilinski protecting his banshee girlfriend from the big bad wolf.”

Stiles upper lip curled and he glared at Peter but didn't say anything.

Derek rolled his eyes to himself and shook his head. “Enough. We should be focusing on looking for Scott. Where do you guys think he would have gone?”

“We don't have any idea, Derek. We spent the entire week trying to figure out where War hides. Isaac and I tried following her twice, but both times it was like she just disappeared into thin air,” Allison answered, glancing over at the younger werewolf. He nodded once in agreement. “It's like War only comes out when she wants to.”

He nodded, thoughtful. “What about-” Derek cut off mid-sentence at the sound of long claws scraping against the door. The noise put the werewolves on alert and they immediately transformed into their alter egos. 

It was silent for a beat before the loud howl of the alpha rattled the door and made the windows shake. Stiles jumped in his skin in surprise and groped at Lydia's hand. He really hoped it wasn't Scott but he knew it was him. There was no mistaking that roar. 

The front door to Derek's loft suddenly slammed open and Scott stood ominously in the doorway. His red eyes glowed in the darkness like two beacons of evil. 

“I think that's my cue.” And Peter scurried back up the stairs like the rat he was, leaving them to face against their alpha. 

Scott stormed into the loft, his eyes wild and filled with rage. He glared around the room, focusing on each face for a fraction of a second before settling his gaze on his best friend. 

Stiles gulped and felt a cold sweat build on his brow. “Um, is he looking at me? Please tell me he's not looking at me because I don't like that look on his face. Someone tell me that I'm not next on his hit list,” he rambled, quickly spitting out the words as his heart raced in his chest. 

The feeling of Lydia's hand in his squeezing his fingers tightly in a vice grip shook him from his shocked stupor and he glanced down at her. Scared bright green eyes stared up at him and he knew that he wasn't just seeing things. 

War was controlling Scott and had manipulated him into killing his best friend. 

The others took notice and Derek and Isaac moved into defensive positions in front of Stiles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allison reach into her pocket and slowly pull out one of her Chinese ring daggers. She subtly shifted her body, blade tightly gripped in her hand, and focused on Scott. Stiles saw the hesitation in her eyes but knew that she would strike if she had to. 

Everything suddenly moved in slow motion. Scott let out a vicious snarl and charged into the loft. Derek went left while Isaac went right and they both collided with their snarling alpha. 

Scott growled and then made quick work of his betas. He slashed Isaac across his abdomen, drawing blood and forcing him down to his knees. Too fast for Derek to do anything Scott had already brought his foot up and kicked Isaac square in the chest, sending him flying across the loft and hitting the wall with a sickening thud. Scott immediately turned on Derek and backhanded him. Derek went sailing through the air and hit the far wall, his head cracking painfully on impact. The former alpha crumpled to the floor limp and unconscious.

“Now, who's next?”

Stiles shared a frantic look with Lydia. He had barely given them the chance to strike before knocking them out of the fight. 

“Allison, don't!” 

But Lydia's plea was too late. 

Allison surged forward with her blade raised and met Scott in the center of the room. He growled at her and they slowly circled each other, looking for that opening for the first strike. 

“You should have listened to her,” he murmured. “I'm going to take him either way. You can't stop me.”

She scowled, but didn't say anything. 

Scott smirked, a wicked glint in his eye. “Do you know what I'm going to do to him, Allison? I'm going to finish what Conquest started,” he taunted. “He was supposed to die, Allison. Don't you understand?”

A strangled squeak came from the back of Stiles' throat at his best friend's words. It was clear now, so very, very clear. That was what War wanted Scott for. 

She wanted the strong alpha werewolf to kill the poor, defenseless little human that Conquest spared to finish whatever scheme that was brewed up by their mysterious ringleader. 

Stiles gripped Lydia's hand tight in his own and swallowed hard. He was going to do something that none of them, especially Lydia, was going to like. 

She met his gaze and must have seen in his eyes what he was planning because her lower lip started to tremble and tears threatened to spill. “No,” she whispered. “Stiles, no. I won't let you.”

He gave her a watery smile. “If handing myself over to Scott will get War to back off, then I'll do it,” he whispered with his forehead pressed against hers and a hand buried deep in her strawberry curls, the other wrapped securely around her waist. Stiles loved her so much and if it meant sacrificing himself to keep her safe, he would do it in a heartbeat. Twice. 

“No! You died once already, isn't that enough for them? I just got you back, Stiles. I'm not going to lose you again,” Lydia cried grasping at the hideous plaid shirt he wore with fisted hands. She wanted to smack him, shake some sense into him. Make him see that this wasn't the way that it was going to end. 

A loud, deafening roar ripped through the air and rattled the windows a split second later. Stiles and Lydia froze and watched as Allison and Scott fought. It happened so fast that it was hard to tell who had made the first move. 

Scott charged, claws out, and madly swiped at Allison.  She quickly dodged and lithely rolled to the side, still keeping Stiles and Lydia shielded behind her. The enraged alpha charged again and this time the huntress kept her position. 

She quickly spun the dagger in her hand until the blade ran parallel to her forearm and waited. Once he was close enough Allison curled her fingers tightly around the ring. A beat passed and she struck. 

Their alpha reared back in pain, grasping with a clawed hand at the sliced skin of his chest. Seeing her chance Allison brought her arm back and quickly sliced open more of his skin, letting the red blood spill from his wounds. 

Scott let out an angry roar and, too fast for anyone to comprehend, knocked the ring dagger out of her grip. It landed with a clatter by the staircase, far out of reach. Slowly, he began to stalk toward Allison, red eyes flashing sinisterly in the dim light of Derek's loft. She backed away from him, looking for a way out of the situation. But eventually her back hit the windows and then he was suddenly there, with his body pressed dangerously close to hers and his arms raised on either side of her head, effectively caging her in. 

A whimper escaped her lips and Scott gave a dark chuckle. “You shouldn't be afraid, Allison, I'm not going to hurt you,” he cooed, pressing his cheek softly, placatingly, against hers. “I promise.”

Tears flowed freely down Allison's face. She felt powerless, weak. 

This wasn't the Scott that she loved. He wouldn't do this to her. He would never hurt her, never make her feel this way.

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away from him. She imagined that she was somewhere else, in a happier place far, far away from here. A place where there the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse didn't exist. 

Someplace where it was just her and the Scott she was in love with, not this dark version of him.

Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't going to let Allison be the one to suffer when it was him that War really wanted. 

“I love you,” he whispered, staring into Lydia's tear-filled eyes. 

She shook her head defiantly, holding on to him tighter. “No. Don't do this. There has to be another way.”

He shook his head regretfully, painfully prying her away from his body. “Tell my dad I love him,” he murmured. 

“Stiles!”

He ignored her and stepped toward where Scott still had Allison pressed up against the windows, whispering words that brought tears to her eyes and for a whimper to escape her lips. 

“Stop. I'll go with you if you let her go.”

Scott's head snapped in his direction at his words and a slow smile curled on the alpha's lips. Automatically he released Allison and stepped away from her. Her legs seemed to give out on her and she slid down to the floor in a heap, curling in on herself trying to make herself as small as possible. 

“Good.” That was all he said before Stiles was snatched up and dragged out of the loft. 

The last thing he heard was Lydia's unmistakable blood curdling scream.

* * *

Lydia and Allison sat side by side with their backs pressed against the windows, silent. 

The men in their lives were both gone, missing without a trace. One was ready to sacrifice himself in the name of love and friendship and the other was being controlled and manipulated by a supernatural being. 

This was seriously what their lives had turned into and Lydia didn't like it one bit. They were only juniors in high school and they have already faced some pretty nasty stuff, most of which she wishes they never have to again. A chill ran down her spine at just the thought of having to spend the rest of her life constantly looking over her shoulder for the next big bad to come rolling into town. 

When this was over, what would be next?

Ghosts?

Fae?

Zombies?

Or the stereotypical one – vampires?

She didn’t want to know.

She just wanted to survive.

Lydia glanced around the loft and watched as Derek tended to the gaping wound on Isaac's head. There was a red stained bandage wrapped around his abdomen and it looked like the skin around his shoulders was starting to bruise from when he hit the wall earlier. 

“This is going to take longer to heal since it was Scott,” Derek warned. 

Isaac nodded and grabbed the clean shirt his former alpha gave him, gingerly putting it on with a wince. “Figures,” he muttered low. “Does anyone even know what War wants with Stiles?” he asked louder. 

Lydia looked away and blinked back tears. Once she was sure that she wasn't going to break down crying, she met Isaac's gaze. “She wants Scott to finish what Conquest was supposed to do.”

“Why? That doesn't make any sense. I thought she just wanted Scott.”

She shrugged helplessly and shook her head. She only knew just as much as they did which was next to nothing. 

Peter's sudden appearance at the bottom of the stairs sparked something in her. He knew something. He kept teasing them with information earlier, telling them everything and nothing at the same time. Derek's uncle may be crazy and psychotic, but he knew things that they didn't. 

Things about the Horsemen. 

“You,” she said, pointing at him. Lydia braced her hands against the cool glass of the windows and pushed herself up to stand.

He pointed to himself with a raised brow, surprised. “Me?”

“You,” Lydia repeated. “You're going to help us find where War is so that we can stop her from making Scott kill Stiles whether you want to or not.”

He smirked condescendingly and crossed his arms across his chest. “And what do I get out of this little arrangement, mmm?”

Lydia leveled him with a cool stare. “Nothing. You get absolutely nothing. Only whatever little satisfaction that warms the cockles of your cold, dead heart from saving two lives tonight.”

Peter stared at her with open curiosity for a beat before all emotion was wiped from his face. He glanced around at the others who were beaten, bloody, and almost down for the count. He must have seen something in them because he nodded. “Fine. I'll help you.”

“Good.”

* * *

“Where's Stiles' Jeep?”

Lydia scanned the area with a scowl. “They must have taken it,” she said, crossing her arms. “But where would they have gone?”

She, Allison, Derek, Isaac, and Peter were standing beside Allison's car. The night was still and quiet. There was nothing to suggest that there was any foul play, no skid marks on the ground, no blood, and no soft voices that carried on the wind. She didn't like it one bit and it made Lydia's mind race with other possible scenarios of what could have happened out here. 

“What do you know about War?” 

The others turned to look at Peter as he held a hand up to his chin, thoughtful. “She’s impulsive, willing to do anything to achieve her goals…and a little demonic at times. War’ll pretty much do anything for her older sister, considering that she’s the youngest of the Horsemen. She’s willing to please.” He trailed off, glancing around them some almost as if he expected War to appear out of thin air before continuing. “We can find her in places of high anger, pain, chaos, and strife. War isn’t the most dangerous of the four, you have to remember that. She can’t hurt you because she’s more spirit than physical being. The only ones that can hurt you are those she is controlling.” Peter paused again to glance at Allison. “In this case, Scott.”

Lydia nodded absent-mindedly, letting all of the new information sink in.

Anger.

Strife.

Pain.

Chaos.

The entire town was filled with all of those things. How were they supposed to find War? It was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“We should split up,” she blurted out, interrupting whatever strategic planning session Derek and Allison had started.

Allison stared at her in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Lydia.”

“I am. Every time War shows up and does something she’s surrounded by people, except for when she somehow got to Scott and did whatever it was that she did to control him. When she showed up when it was just me, Stiles, and Scott, she did nothing. By splitting up, she won’t attack,” she explained.

Isaac glanced around them, almost as if he was expecting War to suddenly appear, too. “But then how are we supposed to find her _and_ Scott?” he asked, gingerly crossing his arms across his chest.

“Think about it. What’s the one place in Beacon Hills right now that is full of chaos, pain, anger, and strife?” Lydia murmured.

“The sheriff’s station,” Allison gasped, thinking of all of the arrests that had happened during the week. “Didn’t Stiles say that his dad told him that everyone that had been arrested just got worse? More angry and volatile than they had been when they got picked up?”

“If that's true, then War should be somewhere nearby. All the anger and rage that naturally rolls off of her is causing those people to be just a little more…unstable than others,” Peter said. 

Derek crossed his arms across his chest. “Then we go there and take care of War.”

His uncle leveled him with a dispassionate, sarcastic look. “You don't just _take care of War_ , Derek. We have to do this carefully. If we just outright attack her she'll send one of her minions to take care of you. Maybe it'll be Scott if you're lucky.”

Lydia frowned and stepped in between the two Hales before they tried to kill each other. “Okay. So we know where War is, but it still doesn't change the fact that we don't know where Scott and Stiles are,” she reminded them. “I want to go to Stiles' house before we look for War. I think there might be something in his research that could help us.”

Fifteen minutes later Lydia and the others were standing in front of the Stilinski residence. The windows were dark and the house was locked tight with the sheriff's cruiser no longer parked in the driveway. He must have been called away some time after she and Stiles had been here earlier. 

The reminder that he was with her just three hours before made her heart clench painfully but she brushed it away and turned to face Peter. “You're coming inside with me.”

He dramatically brought a hand to his chest and smiled sarcastically at Lydia. “I feel so honored,” he mocked.  

Allison quickly shook her head and fingered the trigger of her crossbow, prepared to shoot the older Hale. “I don't think that's a good idea, Lydia.” She distinctly remembered the last time her best friend was alone with Peter and look at what happened. 

“There might be something in Stiles' research that we missed that he can help us with since he knows more about them, Allison,” Lydia reasoned. She trusted Peter about as far as she could throw him, but if there was a slim chance that he could see something that she and Stiles hadn't she was going to take it. 

“She's right and you know it,” Peter smirked when Allison didn't reply right away. 

The huntress glared at him but nodded at Lydia. “Fine, but I'm going with you.”

Derek and Isaac stayed back incase War decided to show up while Lydia led the way to the front door. Without missing a beat, she reached up and grabbed the key from under the eave and opened the door. Allison and Peter followed her up the stairs and into Stiles' room. 

It was the same as when she was here the night before. The bed was still unmade, clothes and shoes were haphazardly strewn about on one side of the room while the other was covered with printouts from the Internet, open books about the supernatural were on the desk covered in brightly colored sticky notes with Stiles' messy scrawl mingling with her own neat handwriting, and lengths of red yarn covered everything. Being here made Lydia tear up some, but she held them back and pointed towards the wall that was covered in pictures and even more sticky notes with the little pushpins that connected all of the red. 

“This is everything that we've been able to come up with so far, but nothing's stood out yet.”

Peter nodded absent-mindedly, gazing critically at every piece of information on Stiles' murder wall. He hummed every now and then to himself as he continued to look on, consulting one of the open books when something didn't make sense.

Lydia watched him for a few minutes before moving to stand in front of the window that overlooked the front yard. Just last week Stiles had been standing in this very spot looking out at the invisible Horseman. Now it was her turn to stand there, but the only thing that she could see was Isaac leaning against the door of Allison's car and Derek standing almost in the shadows, both on high alert.  She turned away, sighing to herself as she went to the ensuite bathroom to splash some water on her face. But she froze as soon as she opened the door. A cold chill ran down Lydia's spine like a whisper and she tightly clutched at the door handle before releasing it from her grip.

 _Nothing is wrong. It's just in your head._ Lydia pushed the dread away before flipping on the light switch. 

Her heart stopped for a beat at what she saw and Lydia let out a high pitched scream. She felt her legs give out and she was suddenly on the floor. The world around her slowed down as she stared at the dark red pool of blood on the floor in front of her. Vaguely, Lydia could hear her name being shouted, but she ignored them as she stared at the blood. 

Hands were on her shoulders, shaking her, and she wondered who was screaming before belatedly realizing that it was her and forcing herself to stop before the Stilinskis' neighbors decided to call the police. Suddenly it was quiet, so quiet that the only thing that Lydia could hear was her own shallow breaths. 

And then she heard it. 

It was just barely a whisper but she knew she heard it and there was no mistaking that voice. 

Lydia shrugged off the hands that were trying to hold her back and leaned toward the pool of her boyfriend's blood until her ear was just hovering over it. 

_“I don't know if this is even going to work, but I've got to try…Lydia, you need to find me. I don't know where Scott is taking me, but solve the riddle I've left for you and follow the trail. I know you'll figure it out. Just follow the trail.”_

She sat up and quickly looked around the tiny bathroom before focusing on the mirror above the sink. Lydia scrambled to her feet, careful of the blood and stared. 

“What just happened?” she heard Isaac hiss into the deafening silence. No one replied. 

Lydia read the riddle written in Stiles' blood three times to herself, confused as to what he wanted her to do. 

“Everybody has some. You can lose some. You can gain some. But you cannot live without it,” Peter read. 

She glanced at his reflection at her shoulder in the mirror before focusing on the message again. “The answer is blood if it wasn't obvious enough for you,” Lydia murmured. 

“What did you hear, Lydia?”

“Stiles,” she said after a minute. “I heard Stiles. He wants me to find him.”

Peter brought a hand up to cup his chin and stared at the riddle in the mirror thoughtfully. He looked somewhat impressed. “I've got to give the boy credit. He's smart, leaving a message for a banshee in his own blood. But personally, I would have just written one on paper.”

Lydia glared at his sardonic reflection. “He told me to solve the riddle and follow the trail. I think he left a blood trail for us to follow.” She spun on her heel and gave him a sickly sweet smile. “And you're going to help me follow it.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Of course I am,” he sighed. 

* * *

Lydia pulled the strap of her purse over her head and rushed to keep up with Peter's fast pace. He paused to sniff the air at the intersection before motioning right. 

“This way,” he told her, glancing over his shoulder once to make sure that he hadn't lost the banshee somewhere along the way as he continued down the street. 

She eyed him critically, perturbed by his sudden change in demeanor. Peter was being helpful for once. He had stopped complaining and making sarcastic comments that were designed to hurt. Not once had he tried to plant seeds of doubt or try to convince her that their quest was pointless. 

It wasn't normal, but then again, nothing in her life was ever going to be considered normal again with the way things were going. 

“Why are you doing this?” she asked abruptly breaking the tense silence. 

Peter slowed his gait until they were walking side by side on the deserted road. “Doing what, Lydia?” he sighed, avoiding the scrutinizing look she was giving him. 

“Helping me, us. Scott. You haven't run off and ignored us.”

She watched his shoulders stiffen imperceptibly as a look of regret and sorrow etched its way onto his face. He sighed tiredly and gave her a thoughtful look. 

“You remind me of someone I knew once. She was headstrong, confident in everything she did,” Peter whispered, his voice taking on a decidedly serious tone. “Willing to fight for what she wanted and fearless of the consequences. Even if it meant death.” He trailed off in silence after that, his eyes suddenly taking on a faraway look. 

Lydia watched him from the corner of her eye as they continued down the street. “You loved her,” she said after a beat. It was a statement rather than a question. It was obvious that whoever this woman he was talking about meant a lot to him if the look on his face was any indication. 

His head tipped slightly in her direction at her words. “I did…” he murmured softly before adopting his normal smug, sardonic tone that was somehow still serious as he continued, “But I'm helping for another, more selfish reason, too, though. I'm under the impression that the appearance of the Horsemen is just a precursor to something…bigger. Badder.”

Just the thought of something worse made her skin crawl and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. It didn't even occur to her that this was just the proverbial calm before the storm when the dark rain clouds were gathering and thunder and lightning was assaulting the sky moments before the worst of it. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Because of how small the blast radius is,” he told her as they passed through the doors of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. 

Lydia stared at him in shock, her mind racing. She must of hesitated a beat too long because Peter was suddenly standing in front of her. His hands, surprisingly gentle, gripped her shoulders and he forced her to look at him. 

“Lydia. Don't think of that now. It's not important. Just think about Stiles and Scott.”

She nodded and forced her feet to move as she followed Peter. Spotting Mrs. McCall behind the main desk, she made a beeline for the woman. 

“Hi, Lydia,” Melissa greeted, a soft smile gracing Scott's mom's face as she looked up from the desk. Lydia watched her smile slip away and be replaced by a stormy expression once the older woman caught sight of the person standing at her shoulder. “What's he doing here?” Brown eyes searched her face for signs of distress. “Sweetie, are you okay? Are you in danger?” 

Lydia grimaced guiltily but shook her head. Scott's mom didn't need to know that it was really her son that she should be worried about. “No, I'm fine, but have you seen Scott and Stiles? They ran off earlier. Scott said that he might come see you though, so I thought he might have told you where they went.” She smiled reassuringly at Melissa and leaned against the high counter. 

“I wish I could help, but I haven't seen either of the boys tonight. Sorry.”

“It's okay. Thanks, though.”

Melissa nodded before leaving them at the desk after being paged over the intercom. 

“Well, that was helpful,” Peter drawled once she was out of earshot. 

Lydia rolled her eyes and scowled at him. “You're being real helpful right now too,” she ground out, glaring at the older Hale. “What are we doing at the hospital?”

“The blood trail led here, but I lost it due to the antiseptic.”

She nodded and they started to methodically search the hospital. Peter would occasionally catch the sharp, metallic scent of Stiles' blood before the trail would go cold again. The only place that he was sure he had caught Stiles' scent was in the elevator. 

Eventually they found themselves standing on the roof of the hospital. The low murmur of whispers touched Lydia's sensitive ears and she forced her way past Peter. Looking around, she caught sight of drops of blood staining the ground, leading away from where they stood at the door. She followed the trail with her eyes before rushing toward the furthest corner of the roof and dropping to her knees. 

Tentatively, she leaned over the small pool of dark blood until her ear just hovered over it and listened. After a beat, she stood up and walked back to Peter's side. 

“Beacon Hills Preserve.”

* * *

After securing her quiver tightly to her back, Allison grabbed her bow before slamming the trunk closed. She quickly made her way over to where Isaac and Derek stood behind one of the parked cruisers in the lot. 

Allison watched as Isaac awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck while he glanced around them with sharp eyes, his shoulders tense. “So, how are we going to do this? Find War?” He rocked back onto his heels and shoved both hands into his pockets, suddenly anxious. “Are we even sure looking for her is the right thing to do?”

“What else are we supposed to do, Isaac?” Derek asked. “Our only option right now to help Scott is to find War and stop her.” 

Allison glanced around the deserted parking lot before eyeing the main entrance to the sheriff's station where she spotted Deputy Parrish standing with his back turned to them just inside the doors attempting to console a hysterical woman. She watched as he patted the woman on the shoulder and tried to offer her a tissue that was automatically shoved away. “We're going to have to make this quick before Parrish or someone else comes out those doors,” she said, reaching back to grab one of her arrows and load her bow. 

“We should start looking for the Mustang a-” Derek started before he was cut off. 

“That won't be a problem, Derek! Look out!” Isaac yelled out.

The now familiar cherry red Mustang came careening into the lot, lights off, and clipped the young werewolf. Derek grabbed Allison and forced them both down between two cruisers just as Isaac was thrown up into the air. 

They watched with wide eyes as the car came to a screeching halt just as Isaac landed nimbly on the roof before back flipping off the car a few feet away. The door suddenly flew open and War stepped out. Her red eyes flickered like a raging fire as she glowered at them. 

“I thought I made it quite clear what was supposed to happen!” War roared. Her hair turned to pure flame and it seemed like the longer they stared at her, the more that her image began to flicker too. 

Not liking where this was going, Allison quickly nocked back three arrows in her direction. She watched in openmouthed horror as War twisted her body into impossible positions, catching each one and snapping them. Derek snarled and went in to attack her next. War simply smirked at him before thrusting her arm out and landing a solid blow to his chest.

Allison barely spared him a glance as he went flying and nocked back a couple more arrows while Isaac tried to go head to head with the Horseman. The arrows bounced off of her and only seemed to make her more irritated. Her face flushed with rage and seemed to slowly spread down her body. With an inhuman roar War grabbed Isaac by the arm and quickly twisted it behind his back. She brought her foot up and kicked him square in the chest.

Suddenly she threw her head back and let out a vicious snarl that rattled the windows of the cruisers surrounding them. Flames started to lick at her feet and begin to crawl up her body, and to Allison it looked as if War’s skin had become a sickening dark red color, almost like the color of blood. She stood frozen as she watched as War let out another roar, her hair lifting off her head like a raging fire. The flames surrounding her suddenly engulfed the Horseman and Allison had to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness. When the light dimmed, Allison regretted not fighting Lydia on not going with her and Peter to track Scott and Stiles.

Standing in all her horrifying glory was War.

She was no longer in human form, but rather in the demonic one that Peter had alluded to. All visible skin was a dark, bloody red. Her hair was completely made out of flame and had lost all semblance of looking natural. Her eyes were black and instead of an iris and a pupil in the center was a glowing red and orange flame. Anything that had once made the Horseman have any semblance of being human had been wiped away and replaced with what could only be described as pure anger. War’s entire visage screamed rage.

Suddenly Allison was being dragged behind a cruiser by Derek. “What are we going to do?” she frantically hissed at him. “I don’t think anything we can do will be able to stop her!”

Derek gave a quick jerk of his head. “You’re right, but we’ve got to at least subdue her for a little while.”

A sharp whistle pierced the air from behind them and Allison and Derek shared a look before standing from their crouched positions to face War.

“Surrender to me and I’ll let him live.” War had Isaac in her clutches, her front pressed to his back. She had a large sword with an ornamental hilt pressed to his throat.

Fear was the predominant emotion on Isaac’s face and Allison didn’t like the situation one bit. In less than a minute War had gained the upper hand. They needed to find a way to be in control again, be on the winning side.

Derek must have been thinking the same thing because he leaped over the cruiser and landed next to War’s Mustang. He dragged a clawed hand against the side of the car and then slashed at the tire closest to him. Allison quickly caught his drift and quickly took out the back windshield.

She nocked an arrow and aimed for another window. “Let him go!”

War let out an inhuman scream of outrage and spun Isaac around in her arms, keeping the blade tight against his throat. “I’ll set him on you like the dog he is, the same way I set your alpha Scott on the boy. He’ll kill you for me, spill your guts and gather your entrails to add to my trophy case!”

“How about we make a deal, War?” Derek bargained. He nodded for Allison to stay on the car as he placed himself between her and the raging demon. “She won’t shoot if you let him go.”

War’s upper lip curled in disgust but she nodded before shoving Isaac away from her. “You’ll regret this. If you had just played the game right, this wouldn’t have happened. I don’t understand why you can’t just follow the _rules_! Tell _her_ about any of this and _I’ll tear out your hearts_!” she snarled before getting into her ruined Mustang. She slammed the door and revved the engine before speeding off into the night.

Allison rushed forward and helped Isaac up from the ground. She gave him a quick hug before looking him over. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, rubbing at his neck where the sword was pressed against it. “Yeah.”

Derek glanced around them and saw a couple deputies push their way out of the sheriff’s station and begin to make their way towards them. “Come on, we need to go.”

* * *

Peter shoved the door to the loft open and stepped aside to let Lydia pass. It was just after sunrise. They had been out all night following the blood trail and the few clues Stiles had left for Lydia in his blood and they were exhausted with nothing to show for it.

No Stiles.

No Scott.

Not anything.

Lydia just wanted to her Stiles back. Was that really so much to ask for?

Dead on her feet, Lydia made it the few feet to the couch and collapsed. She forced her eyes to stay open and looked around the loft for the first time since getting back. Allison was curled up on the other side of the couch, fast asleep. One arm was hanging over the side and her crossbow was loosely gripped in her hand. Glancing around, she didn’t see Isaac or Derek.

Unable to fight her fatigue, Lydia let her eyes flutter shut but wasn’t able to fall asleep. She shifted slightly to get into a comfortable position and listened as Derek greeted his uncle.

“What happened?”

“We spent the entire night following Stiles’ blood and once we got to the preserve it started to send us back into town. Looked like Scotty-boy got smart and realized that Stilinski was leaving behind clues,” Peter said.

The floorboards creaked as someone walked across the loft. “Did you guys at least see them?” Derek asked.

“No, not once. Lydia and I ran around the town a couple times, backtracking when the trail began to overlap, basically _everywhere_. The trail led to the preserve again and ended at the Nemeton where we found Stiles’ next clue, which then led us to the old house and another clue that sent us to the high school. Once we got there the trail went cold.” There was a pause followed by the sound of the floor creaking again. “Between me and you, Derek, with the amount of blood that Stiles has lost, I doubt he’s going to last much longer. Lydia knows this, but I don’t think she’ll admit to herself that we might end up finding his body in a ditch…Then again, considering what’s happened to these kids, what’s a little blood loss in the grand scheme of things?”

Derek and Peter fell silent and sleep finally claimed Lydia soon after. She slept fitfully, dreaming of finding Stiles somewhere in the preserve dead with Scott hovering over his limp body and War standing off to the side with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Hours later Lydia was lightly shaken awake followed by the sound of her name being called.

“Lydia. Lydia, sweetie, wake up – it was just a nightmare,” Allison murmured. “C’mon, Lydia, you were just dreaming.”

Lydia sat up and quickly looked around. She spotted Derek standing at the bottom of the stairs and saw Isaac standing off to the side behind Allison.

“What time is it?”

“Just after ten,” Isaac supplied.

She nodded, glancing out the windows at the sun that was now high in the sky rather than skimming the horizon, before focusing back on Allison’s concerned face. “I’m okay, Allison. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Lydia nodded before really looking at the three of them. “Are _you_ okay? What happened to you guys last night?”

“We had a run-in with War at the sheriff’s station,” Isaac told her, absent-mindedly rubbing the column of his throat. “And she, um, threatened to kill me.” She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Allison sat down beside her and ran a hand through her hair tiredly. “We might have pissed her off a little, too. She threatened to turn Isaac into one of her soldiers like Scott.”

“I changed my mind – I _don’t_ want to know.” She brought her hand up to her mouth and stifled a sob. “ _I just want Stiles back.”_

“I know, Lydia, we want that too,” Allison murmured softly, lightly rubbing her back.

Derek stepped away from the windows and joined them by the couch, speaking for the first time since Lydia had woken. “We need to find a way to stop War if we want to get both Stiles and Scott back.”

“Say we do figure out a way to stop her, Derek, how are we going to find her or Scott? War isn’t going to go back to the sheriff’s station after last night,” Isaac pointed out.

“War let something slip when she was threatening us before she left,” Derek started. “She said that if we told a her about what was going on that she was going to kill us.”

Lydia pursed her lips and stared at him. “I think she’s going to do that anyway, Derek.”

“No, wait,” Allison said, thoughtful. “You’re right, she did say that. But who could she have been talking about?”

All heads turned to look at Lydia. She glanced at them and shook her head, giving them a thin, humorless smile. “She couldn’t have been talking about me, I saw her with Stiles last night after Scott attacked Aiden.” She looked away, suddenly thoughtful. “But she could have been talking about Scott’s mom. Peter and I saw her last night at the hospital and I didn’t have the heart to tell her what’s going on.”

The sudden revelation sparked something in them and they planned what they were going to do to lure War out before splitting their separate ways to get some more much needed rest.

* * *

It was just after sunset when Isaac and Lydia pushed their way through the doors of the hospital.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia watched Isaac nervously finger the scarf around his neck. She frowned at him but shook her head and said nothing. He had already made his reservations about the plan and it was too late for him to back out now so that either Derek or Peter could take his place. Lydia could understand his hesitance about facing War after what had happened to him last night, but he needed to suck it up.

Their alpha and her boyfriend were compromised and they needed their help.

Mrs. McCall spotted them almost immediately a minute later. She smiled at them, propping the patient chart in her hand against her hip. “Hi, kids, what are you guys doing here?” she greeted.

Lydia gave her a tight, forced smile. “Last night when I was here with Peter, I was more than just looking for Scott and Stiles. I was actually trying to track them down because of something that happened yesterday after school.”

Melissa’s brow furrowed in confusion as she looked between the two teenagers. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“Remember what happened to Stiles last weekend? Him being sick because of one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?” Isaac asked her, now tugging at the end of his scarf and anxiously glancing around them.

She nodded slowly, not liking where this was headed. “Yeah…”

Lydia ground the sharp heel of her shoe into Isaac’s foot, completely ignoring his yelp of pain as she spoke. “It’s Scott, he–”

Suddenly it seemed like the temperature had risen by twenty degrees in the room they were standing in and a hot sweat began to build at the nape of Lydia’s neck. The door blasted open and War stood in the doorway. She let out an inhuman snarl and Lydia felt Isaac flinch behind her.

 _“Nooo!’_ she roared. “You’re ruining the game _again_! You aren’t supposed to tell her!”

Brave, Lydia stepped toward War, feeling her own anger bubble to the surface. “Tell her what, War? That you’re controlling her son, making him into your willing soldier with your influence? That you’re commanding Scott to kill his best friend?”

“If you had just followed the game like you were supposed to, you would have ended up back where it all started!”

“Thank you for telling us that,” Lydia smirked.

War’s eyes widened in rage. _“That’s not fair!”_ she snarled.

“All is fair in love and war,” she sneered. “Especially when you play with the hearts of a banshee and a hunter.” War snarled at them one last time before running off in a flurry of flame.

Isaac pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. “The school. They’re at the school, Allison.”

Melissa tugged lightly at Lydia’s arm, turning the girl to look at her. “What was that?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head at the older woman. “You don’t want to know. You _really_ don’t want to know.”

* * *

Allison perched from her roost at the top of the school and quickly scanned the vacant parking lot, waiting for the blue Jeep to appear. She was beginning to think that she didn't hear what Isaac said right. Maybe he said pool instead of school. But what sense did that make? War didn't cause any trouble at the pool as far as she knew. And besides, Lydia had once mentioned that War was a creature of habit, that she eventually repeated her actions over time as history had documented. 

She closed her eyes and steeled herself for what she would have to do. If they were unable to save both of them, she would have to do the unthinkable, whether she wanted to or not.

Her eyes snapped open at the low rumbling of an engine and she watched as Stiles’ Jeep slowly drove into the lot and roll to a stop. The driver’s side door opened and Stiles came tumbling out, quickly followed by Scott. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. He was all red eyes full of anger and rage and sharp teeth and it made Allison’s heart ache that all of that anger was directed at his best friend.

She watched as he roughly manhandled Stiles to walk in front of him and then slowly backed away from the edge of the roof.

“Allison,” Scott suddenly called out. “I know you’re here. I can smell your fear.” Cautiously, she made her way back toward the ledge. Scott was turned away from her but she could plainly see that he had one sharp clawed hand held up to Stiles’ throat. “If you don’t come out from wherever you’re hiding, Allison, I’ll kill him and then it’ll be your fault that he’s dead,” he threatened.

Before she could do anything Lydia’s car came skidding into the parking lot. Lydia tore out of her car and sprinted across campus with Isaac hot on her heels only to stop short when she saw the boys. Derek and Peter came out from the shadows behind Scott at the same time, claws and fangs out. Scott growled menacingly at them in response, halting their approach.

“Stiles!” she screamed before running toward him. Allison leaped up to stand on the ledge, her bow loaded with a flash bolt, and shakily aimed at Scott in case he decided to hurt both Lydia and Stiles.

“Lydia,” Stiles gasped, struggling against Scott’s tight grip, trying to get to her. Isaac raced forward and grabbed Lydia before she got too close and held the banshee tight to his chest.

Out of the corner of her eye Allison saw the now familiar flash of fiery red that was War and saw her come down the stairs near the cafeteria. She was now wearing tight red pants and a leather jacket and had a tight grip on the hilt of her sword.

“Attack, my child,” she hissed. “Kill the boy and then them and you will have won this battle, alpha. There is nothing that these fools can do to stop you.”

A cry of anguish tore from Lydia’s mouth and she struggled even more in Isaac’s arms, desperate to get to Stiles. “ _No!_ ” she moaned. “ _NO! Stiles!_ ”

Scott ignored them all and again called out for Allison. “Come down and join our friends so that you can get a front row seat for Stiles’ death.”

Allison felt her tears streaming down her face as she pulled her arm back. This wasn’t her Scott. This was some sick perversion of him.

“Allison, don’t. Don’t take the shot!” Stiles yelled to her.

At the same time Lydia thrashed in Isaac’s arms, trying to get him to release her. “Please! Please just let him go! Let Stiles _go_ , Scott! Please!” she begged.

“Kill me. Kill me and end this. Just let them go, Scott. Kill me and let Lydia and the others live,” he yelled over her.

“ _Nooo!_ ” Lydia shrieked.

Allison couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t listen to this, couldn’t listen to Stiles sacrificing himself for everyone else, couldn’t listen to Lydia’s desperate pleas.

So she did the only thing that she could.

She quickly drew her arm back again and aimed at Scott’s feet. Unblinkingly, she nocked the flash bolt back.

A split second before the flash ignited Scott dove out of the way, using Stiles as a human shield to protect himself. Almost immediately Peter and Derek moved in closer but Scott was already on his feet and had his hand back on Stiles’ throat, tightening just a little bit more with every step they took until they stopped.

War stepped closer, ignoring the growls of the other werewolves. “Do it already,” she snarled. “Kill the boy!” At her words Lydia started screaming at the top of her lungs and Allison felt her eyes begin to blur with tears, clouding her vision.

Knowing what she had to do to finally get all of this to end, Allison scrubbed her tears away against the sleeve of her jacket and pulled out a steel tipped arrow from her quiver. Blinking away the last of her tears she loaded her bow with shaky fingers. She took two deep, calming breaths before pulling the string back.

“I love you, Scott,” she whispered before letting the arrow fly.

* * *

At the sound of her voice time froze.

Scott released Stiles and closed his eyes and let Allison’s soft words wash over him like a soothing balm. He blocked everything going on around him and listened for one specific sound until he found it. The steady beating of Allison’s heart surrounded him in all directions and erased all of the pent up anger and rage that had fueled his actions over the past two days, breaking the hold that War had over him, and anchoring his mind once again.

But then the spell was broken and time restarted again.

His eyes snapped open and he gasped in equal parts shock and pain as the arrow pierced his shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle. Scott looked down and idly watched as the blood oozed and gushed from the wound.

He blinked sluggishly and dropped down to his knees, suddenly exhausted.

A shrill cry of outrage jolted him and he forced himself to pay attention. Scott looked to his left where the shriek had come from and watched as War became engulfed in flames, her sword already raised as she charged forward.

He blinked again and looked away at the sound of a different cry, this one full of relief.

Scott blinked through bleary eyes and saw Lydia break from Isaac’s hold and rush forward. She dropped to her knees beside Stiles’ slumped form and pulled him close. Lydia cradled his head tenderly in her arms and pressed kiss after kiss on his face.

The sounds of fighting shifted his focus again and he witnessed as Isaac, Derek, and Peter fought against War. They took turns brutally attacking her, but she was always there to counter or block their blows with her sword.

He blinked and kept his eyes closed this time.

“Scott.”

At the feeling of two soft hands on either side of his face, he opened his eyes and suddenly found himself staring into familiar warm brown eyes.

“Scott,” she sighed again, slipping her arms tight around his neck in relief.

He wound his arms around her waist and buried his head in the crook of her neck, breathing in the familiar soothing vanilla scent that was just so _Allison_.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, squeezing her tight against his chest as her heart started to beat just a little faster.

She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. The corners of her mouth curved upward and her eyes lit up. Her eyes slowly slid closed and she leaned in. He met her halfway and they shared a sweet kiss, pouring all of their relief and their love into the one simple act.

An agonizing howl of pain tore them apart and Scott and Allison watched in shock as War sliced diagonally across Isaac’s chest with the sharp blade of her sword. He groaned in pain again and dropped down to his knees, fingers clutching at the open wound on his chest.

Derek growled and lunged at War claws first. She kicked him square in the chest and sent him flying.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, wolf,” she sneered unimpressed.

“How about this?” Peter snarled and he ensnared War in his arms from behind. There was a wild look in his bright blue eyes that made Scott question the man’s sanity again and make him wonder why he was taking all of this so personally, like it had been _him_ that had been controlled by War.

His fatigue and exhaustion returned and Scott fought against it. A wild shriek of pain and anger forced him to focus and he saw that Peter had sunk his fangs into War’s neck. She writhed violently in his grip as the blood oozed and her fire dimmed as her sword fell to the ground.

Through heavy lids he watched as the Second Horseman suddenly froze and then turn to ash.

Relief flooded Scott’s body and the last thing he remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was the feeling of Allison’s lips pressed against his forehead.


	4. Week Three - Famine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, “Two pounds of wheat for a day’s wages, and six pounds of barley for a day’s wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine.” - Revelation 6: 5-6

Allison shifted restlessly, her gaze never straying too far from the double doors of the surgical room of the animal clinic. She quickly glanced at the time on her phone before shoving it back in the pocket of her jacket. It was half an hour after midnight. Over the last two weeks, she realized that each of the Horsemen had only hung around for seven days, wreaked havoc on the town and then left by midnight the following Sunday. So Famine was either coming or was already in Beacon Hills.

And those two weeks had taught her something else – someone else in the pack was next.

She nervously fingered the trigger of her crossbow and, after glancing at the closed doors again, made her way toward the others. Stiles was sitting on the metal surgical table with Deaton tending to the many self-inflicted wounds that littered his arms. They had long since stopped bleeding, but that didn’t make them any less gruesome to look at. Lydia stood beside him, one hand resting on the back of his neck and another fisted in the material of his shirt. She could hear her alternate between asking him if he was okay and scolding him for almost making her lose him again.

Allison stopped once she stood beside Scott where he sat. He glanced up at her with a grin as he continued to tell Deaton everything that had happened in the last week. Without pausing, he pulled her down to sit in his lap and continued to tell Deaton what it was like under War’s control, describing how he had kidnapped Stiles and aimlessly dragged him all over town. She offered him a shy smile before curling an arm around his neck and leaning against him.

“Yeah,” Stiles suddenly interjected. “We ended up at the old Hale house three times. War basically made him bring me all over town for no reason.”

Lydia pressed a kiss to his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder as Deaton finished stitching the last cut. “No, there was a reason. She probably knew that Peter and I were looking for you.”

“All finished,” Deaton declared, snapping his gloves off and throwing them away. He methodically cleaned up and scrubbed his hands before focusing back on the teenagers again. Allison watched as he scanned each of their faces before speaking. “Have any of you wondered what it is exactly that the Horsemen want? They’re said to bring about the Apocalypse to the _entire world_. But, yet, they’ve specifically targeted Beacon Hills.”

Allison frowned and realized that he was right. The strange sickness that Conquest had spread only affected residents of the town and the same thing for the chaos War had caused.

It didn’t make any sense.

“Peter said something to me last night, about the reason why he was helping us,” Lydia started. She bit her lip and frowned. “He said that this—all of this—was probably a sign for something worse coming.”

And almost as if on cue, the double doors burst open and a man stepped into the room, his arms spread out from his sides and a wide attractive grin on his face. Allison leaped to her feet and aimed her crossbow at the man as she slowly moved to shield the others. The man’s dark eyes followed her every movement and his grin shifted into a smirk.

“Oh, that’s cute,” he said, stepping closer to them. Humor danced in the man’s bright green eyes as he held Allison’s gaze. “You can put the weapon away, girl. I mean no harm.”

Allison held her crossbow tight and made no move to lower it as she tore her eyes away from the man’s intense gaze. She didn’t like what she saw there. It was like he could see into her very soul and read her every secret and desire. She took two measured steps back until she stood beside Scott.

The man smiled almost predatorily, showing off his bright white teeth. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of black jeans slung low on his hips and no shirt to show off his lightly toned chest and muscled arms. The dark outline of a pair of scales was tattooed on his hip in black ink, peeking out at them from above the waist of his jeans. His dark hair haphazardly stuck up in different directions as if he had lazily dragged his long fingers through the strands. He oozed sex and desire from every pore of his perfectly tanned skin.

Allison’s instincts told her not to trust him.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Scott struggled to his feet and warily eyed the man. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I thought that would be obvious,” he sighed, dragging a hand through his dark locks again and inadvertently flexing his muscles. “I’m Famine.”

At his declaration the tension in the room grew palpable. Allison stood shoulder to shoulder with Scott, her finger tight on the trigger ready to fire as he transformed beside her, eyes smoldering bright alpha red. Behind them Stiles slid off the operating tabled and grabbed Lydia tight in his arms as they clumsily stumbled back further into the room until their backs hit the wall while Deaton seemingly pulled out his metal single stick from out of thin air.

Famine rolled his eyes at them and raised a single dark brow. “Really?”

“How did you get passed the barrier?” Deaton questioned calmly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

A smirk pulled at the corner of Famine’s mouth at his words. “It’s a talent,” he said, green gaze settled on Allison. He took an experimental step toward her and Scott was there with a roar, shielding her with his body.

“I see,” he murmured softly, nodding to himself before looking at Scott. “If I was going to hurt any of you, I’d have done it already, wolf.” Famine’s gaze shifted to rest on Allison again and he directed his words to her. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he promised ominously.

Famine smirked at them before turning and leaving just as suddenly as he had appeared.

* * *

An hour later, after she had dropped Scott at home, Allison slipped through the front door of the apartment and quietly made her way to her room. She quickly showered, scrubbing at the dirt and grime that covered her skin before dressing and sliding into bed.

Allison leaned to turn the lamp off, but movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she reacted. Her hand tightly curled around the ring dagger hidden beneath her pillows and she twisted before throwing it across the room in the direction of her unwanted visitor.

He casually plucked the dagger from the air before it could pierce his flesh. “Aren’t you just full of surprises,” he chuckled, dropping the blade onto the desk beside him with a clatter.

“What do you want?” she spat, keen hunter’s eyes tracking his every movement.

Famine strode closer to her, a seductive glint in his eyes. Allison stilled as he sat on the edge of the mattress, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Her heart hammered in her chest as she fought the instinct to either flee or attack. Neither one would do her any good right now.

He leaned in closer to her, one arm pressing into the comforter beside her waist and effectively trapping her where she was. A grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he watched her. “Are you afraid of me, Allison?” he whispered, resting his hand lightly against her neck to feel her pulse thrumming fast beneath the flesh. Famine’s breath was cool against her face and smelled faintly sweet and instinctively, against her will, she leaned in closer to him. “Your heart’s beating a bit fast,” he continued softly, hand traveling up to cup her jaw. “It’s okay to be afraid. Most people tend to fear their desires…”

Allison leaned in until she was close enough to press her lips against his in a kiss. Famine watched her, thumb lightly stroking her cheek. Every instinct in her body told her no, but it was like an unknown force had taken over. She leaned in but just before her lips pressed against his, Famine spoke.

“Sleep.”

And she fell into a deep slumber under his command.

Famine’s arms shot out to wrap around the girl’s suddenly limp body before she slid from the mattress and hit her head on the side table. Delicately, he brushed the hair off her forehead as his seductive charms waned. Dark green eyes studied the vulnerability that came with sleep on her young face and a soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

He had missed this.

Missed interacting with them.

Too bad it had to be like this though.

Famine pressed a kiss to her forehead before tucking the girl into bed and turning off the lamp.

“I hope all of your desires are fulfilled, Miss Argent,” he murmured softly before disappearing through the window and into the night.

* * *

On the drive to school Monday morning, Allison thought back to the day before. She had woken late, later than she usually allowed herself to sleep, but always wanted to, and had breakfast with her dad like they used to before her mom had died. And then they talked. Just talked. About all of the supernatural happenings of the last few months, about school, her friends, about every little subject and detail or errant thought that passed through her head that she thought was worth mentioning to him. And then they had spent the rest of the day together watching TV shows and movies.

It was almost like before.

Before all of this werewolf and hunter business.

Before the supernatural became her new normal.

And she had missed it. Missed it so much that she didn’t know that she had been craving it.

Allison pulled into the school parking lot and turned off the engine before grabbing her bag and getting out of her car. She quickly made her way to the main entrance and navigated the halls and students standing in clusters.

Once she got to her locker, she noticed Scott, Lydia, Stiles, and Isaac were standing there waiting for her. “Hey,” she greeted, quickly unlocking her locker and switching out her books.

Scott wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, firmly pressing the length of her body against the hard planes of his. A soft, breathy sigh slipped through her lips at the contact and she leaned back against him. “Hi,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin there.

A smile pulled at her mouth and Allison let her bag drop to her feet before turning in his arms, throwing her own around his neck. She lifted up on the toes of her boots and pressed a kiss to his mouth. It was only supposed to be a quick peck but it turned into a full on make out session right there in the hallway. His tongue peeked out and lightly traced the seam of her mouth, asking for entrance, and Allison gladly gave it to him. They clawed desperately at each other’s clothes, uncaring of where they were or who was watching them. White-hot want coursed through her veins and set fire to her blood and she desperately wanted to do unspeakable things with and to him.

He dragged his mouth from hers with a strangled gasp only to start pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the skin of her exposed throat. She threw her head back at the feeling of his mouth on her and she never wanted it to end. Eyes half lidded, Allison stared over his head and stiffened in his arms at what she saw.

Lydia merely raised a perfectly sculpted brow at her from where she stood tucked into Stiles’ side with Isaac standing beside them, both boys staring with perturbed and slightly uncomfortable expressions on their faces.

An unladylike squeak made its way passed Allison’s lips and she started to insistently tap at Scott’s shoulder. “Scott. Scott, stop.” When he didn’t she roughly pushed him away until they stood a foot apart from each other.

Chests heaving as they panted and struggled to breathe, Scott and Allison started at each other in confusion and bewilderment, the last of their lust washed away as they came back to their senses. “What the hell was that?” Scott breathed, his hands hesitantly twitching against hers before he snatched them away.

Allison grabbed them in hers and held tight, gently squeezing in reassurance. “I don’t know,” she murmured softly, “but I liked it.” She offered him a shy smile. His dark eyes quickly swept over her face, searching. She didn’t know what it was that he was looking for but she could tell that he had found it in the curve of his mouth and the way the tension in his shoulders slipped away.

Scott pulled her in close again, slipping his arms around her waist, his warm hands splaying across the expanse of her back. He pressed a chaste kiss her forehead and lingered there for a moment before pulling away completely only to take her hand in his. They turned to the others with awkward smiles. Scott shifted his backpack on his shoulder and gave Stiles, Lydia, and Isaac a slight nod. “We’ll see you guys later,” he said before gently steering Allison away down the hall before one of them said something to embarrass them.

They slowly made their way down the halls hand in hand until they stood outside the door of Allison’s first class. Allison pressed a kiss to the corner of Scott's mouth and offered him a small smile that he was quick to return. “I’ll see you later,” she said, running her free hand up his chest and under his jacket until she found his heart. The pleasant heat of his body seeped into her skin and she felt her own flush at the thought of another, much closer and intimate, way she could have the warmth of his skin on hers.

The sudden darkening of his eyes told her he was having the same thoughts and Allison purposefully stepped away from him, a teasing smile on her face. “Later,” she said.

“Later,” he echoed, voice dropping an octave and filling with all sorts of promise in just that one word.

* * *

Later turned into much, much later, after Allison had spent her afternoon with Lydia getting ready for the date that she had spontaneously asked Scott to go on with her at lunch and after they had flirted their way through dinner. They had retreated to his empty house afterwards and stumbled up the stairs and into his bedroom, dropping onto the mattress in a messy tangle of limbs and searching lips on skin.

Scott trailed a hot line of kisses down the exposed skin of her throat, drawing out a loud moan from between her parted lips. She ran her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp and making him groan against her flesh, the vibrations sending a pleasurable shiver down her spine to her center.

He suddenly pulled away and a low whimper of disappointment sounded in the back of her throat at the loss of contact. A crooked smile pulled at his mouth and he reached down and pulled her sweater up and off her, leaving Allison in her lacy bra. She sat up and pushed his jacket from his shoulders before ultimately tossing it over onto the growing pile of clothes.

His large warm hands pressed against her skin possessively as they sunk back into the mattress as their lips met again in a mixture of nipping teeth and plunging tongues. A sigh passed her lips as his mouth traveled down her chest, her breasts, and her stomach, leaving behind a blazing trail of fire as he worshipped her body. Greedy fingers clutched at any part of him they could touch as he set her body ablaze before finally finding purchase in the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

She groaned, frustrated, as he pulled away again. _“Scott.”_ He just grinned down at her and whipped off his shirt before gathering her in his arms again and dragging her up until their chests were firmly pressed together.

“Yes, Allison?” he murmured, eyes hooded with lust as he watched her.

Allison said nothing, but instead cupped his face with both hands and kissed him again, pouring all of her pent up emotions out in the single action.  Everything that she was unable to put into words over the last few weeks was said in that one kiss. All of her love. All of her pain. And all of the hurt that she had felt from all of the things that had happened to them over the last few weeks. Scott returned her kiss with equal fervor, arms banding around her back possessively.

Gradually, their touches and caresses became unhurried and less frenzied but still remained urgent. Their clothes were slipped off piece by piece and the pile on the floor slowly grew in size until there was nothing left between them.

Allison sat astride him, hands pressed to his firm chest. Scott stared up at her with lust and desire in his eyes that was sure to be reflected back in her own. His hands gently skimmed down her shoulders to her breasts and down her abdomen, provoking breathy sighs of pleasure from between her lips, before settling on her hips. He suddenly sat up and kissed her, roughly tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth and making her moan.

“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth. She repeated the words back to him, practically moaning them into his ear as he slowly began to enter her.

His fingers flexed on her hips once and then they began to move, setting a slow punishing pace. The sound of their moans and gasps began to fill the room as their movements became more and more frenzied until they were both pushed over the edge and waves of pleasure washed over them.

As they came down from their high, their kisses became softer, less frantic, but their desire for the other didn’t wane.

* * *

The rest of the week passed by in a blur until it was suddenly Friday again. Allison idly wondered where all the time had gone as she crossed the nearly empty parking lot to her car. She didn't really mind though since she and her friends had spent almost every night doing something that normal people their age did. One night they had gone bowling, and another they'd had a movie night at Lydia’s house. Last night she had spent more time with her father, something she had been craving more and more ever since Jennifer Blake had kidnapped him, and they'd spent the evening together bonding much like they had during their time in France over the summer. And then of course there was the date she and Scott had gone on.

A warm blush colored Allison’s cheeks as she thought back on it and desire filled her as her mind filled with images from that night. Thoughts filled with all the wicked things she and Scott had spent the entire night doing, Allison almost missed seeing the sleek black Charger with the tinted windows parked beside her own car. She stopped in her tracks and stared.

She knew that car. She'd seen it almost every time she'd turned, but never here. Never at school.

The cool shiver of fear ran down her spine and Allison resisted the urge to step back as the door opened and the unmistakable tall figure unfolded himself from his car. Famine stood proudly before her, dressed in a black three-piece suit that hugged him in all the right places, shirt open at the throat exposing a hint of his muscular chest, and his dark hair slicked back from his face. A teasing smile spread across his attractive face as he watched her and Allison scowled at the Horseman.

He stepped forward and invaded her space, immediately gathering her in his arms like she was an old friend and Allison stiffened. She struggled in his strong grip, pushing uselessly at his chest. He merely chuckled at her before releasing her and casually leaning back against the door of her car, crossing his legs at the ankle.

A sensual smile played at his mouth, involuntarily drawing her eye, and Allison forced her gaze to his. “So, tell me, Miss Argent, have you been enjoying your week?” he asked.

Allison eyed him suspiciously, immediately on guard. She slowly slid her hand into her bag and curled her fingers around the ring of her dagger. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about all the time you got to spend with your friends, your boyfriend, your father,” Famine said, like it was supposed to be obvious. “No dead bodies surfacing. No running around at night chasing a murderer. No supernatural disturbances.” He ticked each off on a finger and raised a brow at her. “Sound familiar?”

His words sunk in like a hard pit at the bottom of her stomach and Allison made to step back.

“Stop,” he called out, his honeyed voice like a soothing caress against her skin, a soft breeze that ruffled her hair.

The huntress finds herself rooted to the spot, unable to move at his command.

Famine pushed away from her car to stand in front of her again. He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder and Allison flinched away. He grimaced, artfully ruffling his hair as he did so, and the effect only made him more attractive. “I’m not going to hurt you, Miss Argent. I promise.”

A sigh slipped from his lips as he settled his intense gaze on her, a serious look in his eyes. “Haven’t you stopped to think about everything that’s happened over the past few days, Allison?” he questioned. “In all the days that I’ve been here, have I hurt anybody or done anything that could be remotely comparable to my dear brother and sister?”

At his words, Allison thought back and could honestly say that she hadn’t heard or seen a single thing that would cause alarm, other than the sudden rise in the number of students skipping class or the increase in parties that had been happening. The fact that nothing remotely supernatural had happened was far more concerning than a dead body showing up or the insidious anger that had swept town last week. She tightened her grip around her ring dagger and settled her sharp hunter’s eyes on the Horseman.

“If you haven’t done anything like Conquest or War did, then what have you been doing?” She smiled a thin, sarcastic smile. “Other than following me of course?”

Famine casually tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks and tipped his head in acknowledgement, a smirk lifting the corners of his mouth. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on you and your friends—and of course, spreading my influence to you mortals.”

“Your…influence?”

He nodded. “Yes. Why did you think all of your most cherished desires were being fulfilled, Allison?” he asked, green eyes alight with humor. “You were the first I touched after all.”

Allison shook her head in denial. No. He had to be lying. That couldn’t be true. It was a dream. Just a dream, a figment of her imagination spurred by the encounter at the vet clinic and nothing more…

Famine tipped his head to the side as he watched her, smirk widening infinitesimally across his face. “Did you think that night was just a dream, Allison?” he whispered, his voice a teasing caress. “It wasn’t. I was very much in your room, my dear.”

“Why?” she breathed, heart thundering in her chest.

“Because you’re my target, Miss Argent.”

Allison stared at him wide eyed and confused. None of this made any sense. If she was Famine’s target like Stiles was Conquest’s and Scott War’s, then why hadn’t he hurt her?

“You’re confused,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “That’s quite understandable. Allow me to explain. You mortals believe us Horsemen to be bringers of the apocalypse, yes? Well, that’s both true and false. My siblings and I are simply entities meant to ensure balance in the world. We each have two sides. On one hand, Conquest can bring incurable sickness and disease, much like you’ve seen, while on the other he can also end it all so that there is none. War—well, you’ve seen the chaos that she can cause with just the flick of her wrist. But that’s not all she can give to this world. She could spread a peace like you’d never seen.” A small smile lifted the corners of Famine’s mouth while a dreamlike look glazed his green eyes. “She did it once and it really was quite beautiful…”

Famine seemed to shake himself from his thoughts and he settled his dark gaze on Allison again. “I can make all your desires come to fruition. I can make it so that the very thing that you crave or desire becomes your downfall and the downfall of others until they simply eat you alive and make you into the very monsters that you fear. Or I can make it so that you're satisfied in the best of ways.” Famine leered at her with a salacious grin on his face before it was washed away by humor.

“And what about Death?” Allison asked when he said nothing else.

His expression sobered and he settled her with a somber look. “She can bring down worse than anything the other three of us combined could come up with, making it look like child’s play…or she can breathe life into the world.” Famine glanced around them, almost as if to make sure they were alone even though she was pretty sure they were, before focusing his intense gaze on her again. “You should know that I was sent here to kill you, Allison, and make you take all of your friends down with you while I was at it.”

Allison finally pulled the ring dagger from her bag and pressed the sharp point to his exposed Adam’s apple. She glared up at Famine, daring him to give her a reason, any reason, to attack. “Then why haven’t you?” she growled lowly.

Famine pressed forward, uncaring of the blade at his throat, his dark gaze suddenly flat with no emotion for the first time since she had encountered the Horseman. Before she could react, he had disarmed her, the dagger held firmly in one hand, while the other twisted her arm around her back. He dragged her forward until their chests were pressed tightly together. “Because I’m not a mindless drone,” he snarled viciously. “My dear sister means harm to your banshee, hunter, and no one should suffer as she has envisioned in her dark machinations.”

He shoved her away and Allison stumbled back with a gasp. Famine tossed something at her and she scrambled to catch the item. “If you care for your banshee, Miss Argent, I suggest putting that around her neck and ensuring that she does not remove it.”

Allison gaped at him before looking down at the object in her hands. A large blood red jewel pendant set into tarnished silver at the end of an elegant silver chain winked at her, the strange symbols engraved on the silver around the precious stone emitting a faint glow.

“What is this?” she asked, looking up. But Famine was gone and in his place was her ring dagger.

* * *

Derek fingered the pendant underneath the light of the lamp. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he said finally, turning back to face the others standing in his loft.

Allison shared a worried glance with Scott. They had just come back from the clinic and heard the same thing from Deaton after she had told the others about her encounter with Famine. Deaton had very little to say about the necklace other than to tell them that it was very powerful. Internet searches predictably led to dead ends so they turned to Derek for help.

“And you said Famine gave this to you, Allison?” Derek asked, still examining the pendant.

She nodded once from where she stood beside Scott next to the couch, Lydia and Stiles sitting next to them with Isaac hovering behind, nervously fingering the scarf around his neck. “Yeah. All he told me was to put it around Lydia’s neck and then he was gone. He didn’t explain why.” Derek nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.

They lapsed back into silence, each one of them lost in their own thoughts and worries. A part of Allison distrusted Famine despite his words to her earlier, but another, less rational, part wanted to heed his words and put the necklace around Lydia’s neck if it meant that her best friend would stay safe from whatever Death had planned for her. That less rational side would sometimes try and take over, but Allison would remind herself that Famine was a Horseman with the ability to kill everyone and he was probably lying to her. Attempting to scare her and her friends into putting that thing around Lydia’s neck just to make her even more vulnerable than she already was.

The sudden appearance of Peter at the bottom of the stairs broke her from her thoughts. “What’s this I hear about Famine?”

Allison tracked his movement across the loft with keen hunter’s eyes, hand moving to rest on the hilt of her hunting knife where it was strapped to the small of her back, as he went to stand beside his nephew. While Lydia might have developed somewhat of a cautious, shaky trust of him for helping her track Stiles after Scott had kidnapped him, Allison wasn’t going to be taking any chances when it came to Derek’s power-hungry, psychotic uncle.

Peter took the necklace from Derek. “I’ve seen something like this before a long time ago. It’s a protection amulet,” he declared after a beat. “A very ancient, very powerful one.” He pointed first at the jewel and then at the strange symbols engraved into the silver. “This ruby seems to be the source of its power and the engravings act as amplifiers, sort of as a little extra _oomf_.”

He glanced over at the teenagers clustered together, a curious eyebrow raised in their direction. “Who gave this to you?” he asked.

“Famine,” Allison replied curtly.

Peter nodded thoughtfully, humming noncommittally. He crossed the loft until he stood over Lydia and then proceeded to drop the necklace over her head until the amulet hung around her neck. “Don’t take it off,” he told her before carelessly dropping into the empty armchair and grabbing the book resting on the coffee table.

Everyone stared at him blankly in confusion and suspicion when he said nothing more and a full minute passed before he finally looked up. Peter rolled his eyes at them and dramatically snapped his book closed. “What?” he snapped.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not wearing this,” she said, making to remove the amulet. “It might look like a protection amulet, but that doesn’t mean that’s what it is. For all we know, it could be really used to track whoever is wearing it.”

Stiles frowned from beside her, eyes trained on the necklace in question. He reached out and stilled her hands, stopping her from taking it off. “But, Lydia, what if it _is_ a protection amulet?” he countered, amber eyes beseeching her to stop and reconsider. “What if Famine is actually trying to help us? After all, he hasn’t done anything to hurt Allison or anyone else in town when he’s had every opportunity to do so in the first place.”

“Listen to your boyfriend, Lydia,” Peter told her, tossing his book back onto the table. “When a Horseman gives you a gift, you say thank you and be grateful that he’s kind to you. I warned you that Death would be coming for you, Lydia, and this just proves it.”

The color rose in Lydia’s face as she glared at Peter. “And what if you’re wrong? What if Famine isn’t helping us, but really Death?”

“I’m not,” he said, the arrogance and self-righteousness clear in his tone. Peter reclined back in his seat. “Why don’t we just settle this like civilized people?”

Stiles snorted. “Civilized? You’re the last person anyone would call civilized, Mr. I-tried-to-kill-everyone-in-this-room!” he exclaimed. A thin smile crept across Peter’s face, but he didn’t bother trying to deny it.

Peter shifted his attention onto Allison and looked at her expectantly. “Let’s settle this once and for all and simply ask Famine,” he said.

“You say that like I’ve got his number saved in my phone,” she retorted bitingly, glaring at him.

He gives her a sardonic look, a condescending smirk creeping across his face that made her want to carve it off with her ring dagger. Her fingers twitched at her sides and Scott’s gentle but firm grip around her wrist stay her hand and she calmed some. “No, but you’ve got something better, Allison,” he told her.

She shifted her weight onto one side and raised a skeptical brow at him. “And what would that be?”

“You said it yourself—you have a connection with the Horseman that you can’t explain,” he said, “And I’m sure Scott and Stiles can agree when it came to War and Conquest. Am I right, boys?”

They nodded begrudgingly. “I could always tell if Conquest was around,” Stiles said, hand tightening around Lydia’s as he stared unseeingly at the coffee table. He seemed to shake himself from whatever he was thinking about and turned to look up at Allison. “And if I was feeling particularly paranoid, a single thought was enough to summon him.” Stiles’ eyes slipped closed and a shiver ran down his spine and Lydia was quick to comfort him.

Allison blanched at his words. She was loathed to admit it, but Peter was right. She did have a connection with Famine and if she was being honest with herself, in the back of her mind, on an unconscious level, she always knew when he was around. Sometimes he was close enough to touch and other times all she had to do was look over her shoulder to see him. And worse, if her thoughts strayed from whatever pleasing desire Famine was helping make happen to worry about when he would strike, he would suddenly appear before disappearing just as quickly as he had come and she would forget it had all happened.

She didn’t know how she suddenly knew it was true, but deep in the pit of her stomach she knew it was. And Famine probably had a hand in helping her both forget and remember.

Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet Peter’s and for a split-second she thought she saw sympathy in his blue eyes. “Just focus on him, Allison, and he’ll come,” he said.

With Scott’s hand wrapped tight around her own in support, Allison heaved a deep sigh as she let her eyes slip closed and focused on picturing Famine. She saw his tall, lean body and long dark hair with the ever-present arrogant smirk on his face. She thought of the way he just seemed to scream sex and seduction and of how those same seductive charms made him immensely dangerous.

Seconds then minutes passed as nothing happened. Allison frowned and opened her mouth to tell them this wasn't going to work, that she couldn't summon Famine like they thought, but then—

A loud ominous knock sounded on the door to the loft like heavy thunder, rattling the windows and making the lights flicker and sway over their heads, making Allison flashback to just last week. A shiver went down her spine at the memory and she clutched desperately at Scott’s hand. He tightened his grip around hers in response and she knew that he was thinking about it too.

Everyone turned to look at Derek as a second knock sounded on the door and he grimaced before cautiously making his way across his loft. Slowly, he reached out and pulled the door open.

Instantly everything stilled and quieted and the only thing Allison could hear were her own uneven, ragged breaths.

“Thank you,” a familiar voice said. “I was beginning to wonder when one of you would answer.” Derek stepped aside and Famine strolled confidently into the loft, the smirk on his face predator-like and humor dancing in his eyes. He was still dressed in the same suit as earlier, except he’d lost the jacket and vest, leaving him in the white dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up to show off his strong forearms. Even more buttons had been undone letting everyone see his tan skin and muscled chest.

Famine settled his dark gaze on Allison. “I was wondering when you would call, Miss Argent,” he said. His green eyes swept across their faces before focusing on Lydia and a pleased smile crept across his handsome face. “Good, you put the amulet around the banshee’s neck. Now she’ll have trouble locating her.”

“Who?” Allison barked out sharply, shifting closer to Lydia along with the rest of the pack, her hand tight around her hunting knife again.

He didn’t take his eyes from Lydia when he answered, his entire expression darkening. “Death.”

The cold chill of fear seized Allison and she clumsily reached out to grasp her best friend’s shoulder if only just to reassure herself that she was still there, still alive. The heat of Lydia’s skin seeped into her hand and it did very little to help. All it did was make her think of when she had sat beside Stiles when he was in the hospital. She had held his hand while Lydia desperately begged and begged for him to wake up. He had been warm with the familiar heat of life, but he was already on the verge of death and was just hanging on by a thread as it literally flowed through his veins for them all to see.

She had snatched away her hand, unable to stay there while he literally slipped away from them before their very eyes.

But she wouldn’t do that. No. Not to her best friend. Not to Lydia.

Not when she could actually do something to save her.

“Why?” Stiles asked, his voice hard like ice. Lydia clutched desperately at his arm beside him and he moved to wrap her tight in his embrace, all but pulling her into his lap. “What does Death want with Lydia?”

Famine sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of them. His voice was a sad whisper. “Because she’s able to warn the living and thwart Death.” He leaned forward and reached out to lightly tap the amulet where it hung around Lydia’s neck. “Whatever you do, don’t take this off, little banshee,” he told her softly, “Ancient power flows through this piece powerful enough to shield you from Death as long as you wear it. It will keep you safe, okay, little one?”

Lydia swallowed noisily and nodded stiffly. “Yes.” A small smile tugged at the corners of the Horseman’s mouth.

“Why are you helping us?” Scott suddenly demanded, wary of his intentions.

Famine slowly raised his dark eyes to meet Scott’s. “Death means true harm to your banshee, wolfling, and I simply couldn’t be a part of it. Especially when I don’t agree with my sister’s reasons.” His gaze darkened, the green almost turning black. _“Be grateful that I’m not a mindless drone.”_

After a moment Famine stood. He dragged a hand through his dark locks, artfully ruffling his hair again. The cool, soothing balm of calm rolled over Allison and she knew it was his doing. “I’ll leave a full day ahead of schedule to let you settle in some. You’ll have a long week ahead of you.” He looked at each of them, the somber expression on his preternaturally handsome face out of place. “Be well.”

Famine turned and made his way to the door. He was almost out the door when Allison stopped him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He merely sent her a smirk over his shoulder before disappearing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter and then a short epilogue left.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://angelqueen87.tumblr.com). I'd love to hear what you guys think, so comments are much appreciated!!!!


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